


The Fateless

by Sawsbuck Coffee (RosesAndTheInternet)



Series: Anthem: A Divergent Rewrite [1]
Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Fix-It, Multi, lots more characters and relationships i can't be bothered to tag, mixing the book and the movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 92,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosesAndTheInternet/pseuds/Sawsbuck%20Coffee
Summary: Mimette Malachite has always felt lucky to be alive in the way that she is. She was born into an incredible life with every opportunity Erudite had to offer lying at her feet. But in a desperate attempt to forge a path free of the family legacy she fears she'll never live up to, she falls in with the Dauntless and finds herself wholly unprepared for this new life. Her friends are great, her instructor is...not so great. But Mimette is determined to succeed and nothing if not a hard worker.





	1. Familiar Tunes

**Author's Note:**

> The World We Know is just the working title and i would love alternate suggestions. Also this is still Overture just retitled to something...slightly more fitting. I'm also running purely on spite to write this thing because i couldn't contain how much this series completely and utterly infuriates me.

Nearly five hundred years ago this city became the safe haven for our ancestors. The founders came here to start a life and rebuild society in the ashes of a great war. We’re lucky to be alive within these walls, there’s almost nothing left from back then but we all know that nothing good lies beyond the city; some say that a war still rages on, others say that there’s nothing at all just wasteland as far as the eye can see. All that we have of the founders, our ancestors, are the doctrines they wrote for us; six separate documents to detail how we are supposed to live once they’re no longer alive to explain it. The first five are unique to the individual factions, manifestos for how their respective people are to live; and the sixth is for the city at large, the document detailing how we’re meant to live in harmony, always separate but united in our need for peace. We may not know how our founders sounded, looked, how they were as people rather than legends; but we know what they believed and we know what they wanted for us, it’s all that we can do to live up to the plan they designed.

We all a part to play; each of us knows where we belong. We exist in five factions; the Abnegation the selfless; are our civil servants and the chief governing party because they aren’t in politics for personal gain, the Candor are the honest; are our justice system they’re the most honest they always tell the truth, the Amity are good and kind; they farm the land and care for those who can’t care for themselves, the Dauntless are brave; they protect us from threats inside and outside our walls; they protect everyone, and the Erudite; they value knowledge, they know everything. The Erudite are my people; I was lucky to be born into a faction that encouraged me to work hard and to learn. But I’m not sure if I can be happy here, I love to think but I admire the Dauntless more than anything. I want to help people just like they do.

 

By the time my alarm goes off I’m already awake, sitting sideways in my desk chair with my feet up on the wood and messing around on my laptop. I’m nowhere near ready to go, naturally, still in my pajamas and my hair a curly mess framing my face.

The lights brighten with the alarm and I squint at the change. “Computer,” I say, “stop.”

The alarm falls silent. I sit there for a few minutes before closing my laptop and getting up. The very first thing I do is put last night’s school stuff in my bag. I’m not the most forgetful person, but I also don’t like to leave anything until the last minute.

It’s not a bad workload, not for an Erudite anyways; we’re expected to work hard so really nothing but the truly insane seems too bad. That said, I know more people than I can count that gladly take on the truly insane just because they enjoy it. My family members come to mind.

But I’m not someone who relishes in pushing themselves to the breaking point, even if it means not being the best the world’s ever seen. I’m plenty competitive and even more ambitious, I don’t like the feeling of just sitting around doing nothing. But I like being able to sleep at night and devoting my time to more than classes and homework.

“Computer, run me a shower.”

I grab my robe and walk down the hall to the bathroom accompanied by the smell of cooking eggs and coffee, and a metal spatula scraping against the pan. The voices of my parents drift up as well, but I’m too tired to lean over the floors railing and greet them.

“Computer,” I say as I get in the shower, “play me something.”

The music sounds strange in the acoustics of the shower, but I like this song. I close my eyes and let the already hot water run over my back.

“Computer, what day is it?”

“Today is September first.”

I sigh. “Fuck.” I want to just relax and pretend like it’s another weekday morning, but I know that I can’t. The Aptitude Test is held today, which every other year has just marked the last day of school which was also one hell of a scheduling nightmare what with the shortened classes and general end of the year chaos. Today it marks my last real day as a child. Today I’ll take the test that will decide my fate and tomorrow I will follow through with that decision. No one is obligated to of course, but it would be stupid of me not to. Besides, I already know that it will say.

At least I hope I do.

I’ve taken to reminding myself that I am Erudite, that I belong here, that I will follow the life set out for me. But there’s this niggling little thought in the back of my mind, the notion that there’s something better out there.

I try to just chalk it up to my eldest brother and sister transferring. They left and I’ve never looked at anything the same since, not my home and not the factions they chose. They’re the reason that I don’t feel quite completed here, that and I’ve been toeing the line between Erudite and Amity all my life. My family doesn’t believe in _faction before blood_ , we haven’t for generations and because of that the fourth of my family that resides in Amity has always remained pretty close. We see them and they see us and it’s fun; a little unorthodox, but fun. I’ve grown up knowing endless grass fields, orchards, and sunshine just as much as I have knowing glass skyscrapers, massive libraries, and soda breweries that have pamphlets explaining the chemical reactions of their process.

My eldest brother – Mark – crossed that line, my middle sister and brother – Melanie and Michael –  chose to stick with our side of the fence so to speak, and my eldest sister – Minerva – rejected the dichotomy entirely to run away to Candor. To marble floors, loud voices, bare faces; and she’s the odd one out.

I won’t do that. I love her, but I don’t really like her faction all that much. She’s done great things there as the representative, nothing short of everything she could to better the lives of people within her faction and relations with people beyond.

You would think that having family serving on the Faction Council as well – a brother and a mother – might make things easier; it doesn’t. We don’t mix family and business, we would fall apart if we did. Just because they have blood ties doesn’t mean that they always agree, though the thought does make people a little antsy. One family making up roughly a third of a governing body doesn’t make anyone anything but nervous. Family members being within a general proximity of the council makes people nervous and given that my father and other siblings skirt the edges of the council as other leadership within Erudite, my family makes people nervous. But the clear-cut separation of the factions for once works in our favor, allows them to maintain their positons without constantly wading in controversy.

Mostly. There’s…other things, for all that we don’t like to mix family and business I’m never exactly out of the loop about the council’s affairs. My parents talk to each other and to me about it almost daily, they indulge each and every one of my questions and confusions about the intricacies of inter-faction politics.

A two-toned beep interrupts the music and my thoughts, the tell-tale sign of the computer about to speak or ready to listen. “It is now four-forty-five.”

“Computer,” I say, “turn the water off.”

If I don’t get going soon, my parents will be gone for work before I get a chance to see them. Wouldn’t exactly be the first time it’s happened.

I plug in the hairdryer and turn it on after wringing out my hair and sliding on my robe. It turns my hair into a frizzy, curly mess but it’s a _dry_ , frizzy, curly mess. I run the brush and three different kinds of product through it before pinning it back with half a dozen bobby pins and a clip then hair-spraying it all.

If that seems a little much for just a school day, Erudite places nearly as much importance on physical beauty as we do on academic prowess. Someone who looks frazzled and not well put together is clearly lacking in either the motivation or time management skills to be otherwise. Anyone can be pretty with a little bit of effort and Erudite expects that effort.

I walk back to my room and pull an outfit from my closet that I find suitable for both autumn chill and my own style preferences. Then I switch on the lit mirror and start on my makeup. Aside from being an unspoken requirement, the makeup brings a life to my cheeks that I don’t otherwise have. The rest of my family does but I’ve been told that I look like my mother dipped in bleach, which I’m pretty sure isn’t a compliment. My mother’s pretty, but I’m pale as can be everywhere but my eyes. I’d look lifeless without taking matters into my own hands.

I finally go downstairs when that’s done, my bag slung over my shoulder, only to find that my father is already gone and my mother is sitting alone at the dining room table. She has her tablet in front of her, reading over something as she drinks her coffee but she looks up at the sound of my footsteps.

“Good morning, Mimette.”

“Hi, Mom.” I sit down at the table. “Where’s Dad?”

“He had to leave early for work, Choosing Ceremony coming up and all.” She gets up and walks into the kitchen to get me a cup of coffee and scrape the last of the eggs from the pan onto a plate. “You just missed him in fact. He said to tell you good luck and that he loves you very much.”

“Are you guys busy today?” I ask.

They’re busy every day, but some days are better than others and I hope that they can at least be home with me tonight.

She hums in thought. “Provided nothing goes horrendously wrong, my schedule is relatively tame. I should be home by…let’s say eight at the latest.” I know good and well that I can’t hold her to that, that as the faction representative she doesn’t have the luxury of putting her family first and has to do pretty much whatever’s asked of her. Mostly working late into the night on whatever the latest upset with the council is – be it the Faction Council or the Abnegation one, or meetings with the other branches of Erudite’s leadership.

She sets my plate and coffee down in front of me and then reclaims her seat at the head of the table.

I’ve come to dislike how empty it seems, meant to seat ten and almost never seating more than four. Ever since my siblings moved out our huge house has felt too empty, for me at least. Their bedrooms have been repurposed, all the space makes this place the ideal place to hold parties, and everyone can for the most part do as they please without disturbing anyone else. Still, I miss being little and surrounded by the warmth of a half dozen and then some people always around.

If it bothers my parents too, they don’t show it.

“So.” My mother sets her tablet down, leaning forward on the table just slightly.

“So,” I repeat, taking a bite of my eggs.

“Aptitude Test.”

I nod and swallow. “Uh, yeah, that’s today.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

 _If I say no, can I stay home?_ I think. But I say, “Uh, yeah. I’m…excited.” I force a smile that I’m sure doesn’t come out quite right.

She touches my arm. “Don’t be nervous. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

I nod again, quietly not believing her. Maybe for her it was, but she’s the perfect Erudite, my whole immediate family is so _perfect_ and it kills me to think that I might wind up the disappointment. Mark and Minerva may have left, but they’ve done things with their life that we’re all proud of; they’re perfect in their factions.

But I’m not perfect. I’m trying, I really am.

I avoid any obligation to keep the conversation going by taking a long drink of my coffee. Cinnamon, my father’s favorite.

“Are you coming straight home after school?” she asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I might hang out with Casey and Eliza if they want to. Why, is there something you need me to do?”

“No, I figured that I’d ask though.” She stands, tucking her tablet under her arm. “I should get going. I love you, have a wonderful day, try not to be so nervous.” She kisses the top of my head as she passes me.

“Love you too.” I wave to her as she disappears out the front door.

If I could, I would stay here all day and avoid the test all together. But after I finish my food I drag myself to my feet and rinse my dishes in the sink. With every minute that passes the dread in the pit of my stomach grows and grows.

I’m scared of what the test will tell me, I’m scared of choosing wrong, I’m scared of not being able to live up to my family’s legacy no matter where I go. I’ve had sixteen years do decide what I want and I still don’t know, I really just want to be happy. But that’s not enough, not in the world I love in and not for the family I come from. I cannot be the one child that fails to amount to anything.

Heaving one more sigh, I turn the sink off and grab my bag, then walk out the door.

I don’t want to do this, in fact I would rather be doing pretty much anything but this. But like it or not, today is the day that I face my fate.

 

At the edge of the Erudite sector where it melds into City Center, the common area of the five factions where the government buildings and most of the businesses are, is the upper levels campus. The mid-levels campus is a few blocks down but lower levels, from early childhood to about ten, are taught at the discretion of the individual factions. Mid-levels and upper levels are one of the many responsibilities of Erudite. In mid-levels, from about eleven to thirteen, kids from all five factions and factionless are taught in the same building but classes are still separated by faction. In upper levels, we’re all just thrown together on one multi-building campus. Of course, in the first year no one knows how to deal with each other and no one knows how to act but as we get older...well actually scratch that, the Dauntless and Candor still don’t know how to act; but to an extent we can put up with each other. Each faction is a separate entity with its own ideas of how people should and shouldn’t behave and so of course there’s going to be some clashing. Dauntless are brash, Candor are impolite, but Amity and Abnegation are pretty alright. Despite their obvious flaws, I think that both Dauntless and Candor are pretty okay. I’m not like my parents or the twins, who hold an obvious distaste for everything that’s not Erudite.

Except for my siblings of course.

Upper levels runs all the way through age eighteen but only the first two years are mandatory, something about us being allowed to plan for our own lives or something. There are many who just choose not to return and let today be the last day of school for the rest of their lives but there are others who move onto the collage in the Erudite sector called Oxford. In fact, for us Erudite’s it’s a requirement. Though the school is mostly Erudite and Candor there are a smattering of miscellaneous students from Amity and Dauntless, Abnegation never attend because to be educated is to be selfish or _whatever_.

The upper levels campus isn’t very big, it’s one large building where all of the general classes are held surrounded by multiple smaller buildings where more specialized subjects are including the science labs, the gymnasium, and the library. It’s easy to mistake this place for being part of the Erudite sector, my faction designed it. Most of the buildings in City Center were designed by the five factions together; a tangible symbol of faction unity. Some of the buildings are very old, left standing after the pre-faction war and made new again. Others were built after the fact, up from the rubble and the ash decades or even centuries ago; while some were completed just a few years, or even a few months ago. Things are always changing in the city, here and everywhere.

I walk to one of the larger of the side buildings with three stories made mostly of glass, the performing arts building. I know that in the back is a beautiful auditorium where the student recitals are held. I’ve performed on that stage a few times before, both during solo performances and with the student orchestra. I’ve played the cello since I was ten because my parents wanted me to take up an instrument so that I could be more well-rounded. I guess that I enjoy it, it’s a nice way to destress and the other people in the orchestra always sound so good. No one is really committed to it except for the older kids, the ones who have already chosen their factions, the ones who are considering actually doing something with it. I don’t know if I might, after tomorrow I might never play again. I guess it all depends on where I go.

 

After my cello practice is over I start to make my way toward the main building. The sun is higher in the sky and I can see other people starting to go toward the same building. As I’m walking someone wraps their arm around my shoulders, drawing me in close to them.

“Good morning, Mimette,” Cassandra – though she prefers Casey – Diarmond says as I turn my head to look at her.

She beams at me, bright eyed despite the early hour. I’ve never been a morning person, but Casey is sort of an all hours of the day and night person.

She and I have been friends since we were four, we met during preschool and she was the first friend that I ever had and one of the few friends I have now. I tend to stick to my own, the people that surround my family. Casey’s father and my parents are something like friends and the two of us are often shooed away from dinner parties and other social events along with all the other children. It used to annoy me, now I dislike so many of my parents’ acquaintances and friends that it would be something like a mercy if their kids weren’t just as bad if not worse.

Casey is one of the few I know that is genuinely kind, she always has been. I can imagine that’s why she hates it so much.

“Hey Casey, how are you?”

She shrugs, “I’m well. The Aptitude Tests are today. Are you excited?”

“Well, uh…no.”

She nods, “I mean the worst that could happen is that they tell you to leave, right?”

I wish it were as simple for me as it is for her. She has every reason to hate her father, he’s a monster, and she has no love for the general culture here for good reason; it’s competitive, and cold, and built on vanity and cruelty. But for every flaw I see, I find something that I love. The little pockets of warmth that exist here – within my friends, within my family – it makes my faction easier to love.

I don’t know how I could ever leave, but I’m not entirely convinced I can survive if I stay.

“Uh…sure?” I try at that half smile again. I think it comes out worse than the last time.

Her arm tightens around my shoulders, tugging me against her as she giggles. I instinctively wrap my arm around her waist in response. “Mim, you’re gonna be fine. _We’re_ gonna be fine.” She drops her voice. “You’ve always been Erudite, I’ve always been Amity.  All the test really does is confirm what we already know.”

I don’t bother to argue with her about it, to tell her the truth that I _don’t know_. I’ve avoided thinking about it and avoided thinking about it because it bothered me that thinking of myself as Erudite never has quite felt just right, as accurate as it could be. But nothing else does either and really even thinking too long about leaving puts my stomach in knots.

Nothing’s ever just come naturally to me, Erudite or otherwise. I have to try at everything I do and I genuinely don’t understand people who have ‘natural talents’ or whatever. In Erudite we say that everybody has a ‘ _niche_ ’, something that they’re just naturally kind of good at and the idea is that you find your niche and stick to it. Casey’s niche is botany – because of course it is, my mother’s is politics, Melanie’s is psychology, Michael’s is engineering. Hell, it applies outside of Erudite too; Mark’s niche is diplomacy, Minerva’s is law. It doesn’t even have to be an academic skill; Maureen – Michael’s wife – hers is figure skating, and my father…well he’s just a people person.

But everything that I’m good at, I’m good at because I did everything I possibly could to become good at it. I’m well rounded because I like to learn and accomplished because I’m relentless. Not as relentless as other people that I know, but pretty relentless.

We walk through the double doors into the crowded main building. I can see all of the colors blurring together; black, red and yellow, blue, gray, black and white, all in one place. I’ve been fighting my way through these crowded hallways for years and before this year today used to excite me. It was the last day of school and then I was free for a whole three months to do what I wanted when I wanted. It meant that I was free to spend the day with my friends doing something or just doing nothing at all. I was free to hang around my mother and Jeanine, following them like a shadow and doing what little I could to help. It meant that I could just hang around and have the house to myself all day while my mother and father were at work.

But all year I have been dreading this day. I’ve known this was coming and I’ve known it was coming but I was hoping that I might just ignore it and keep things business as usual. To just try and be relaxed and not think about it, and I succeeded for the most part. Of course, there were times when I stressed about the impending doom that is the aptitude test, but who didn’t?

“Hey Cas-” What I was about to say is cut off when a smaller form slams into me, knocking us both to the ground. I look up and a small, thin Abnegation girl is picking herself up off the ground. The girl’s bag is knocked away from her and as she reaches for it in the crowded hallway a tall Candor boy kicks it further from her. I stand and pick it up for her, shouldering my way through the crowd.

“Thanks,” she says softly. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” I look around and I can’t see Casey anywhere. The congested hallway is beginning to thin around us as people go to their classes.

Casey has vanished in the crowd of people as many that are taller than her and I are between us.

I don’t bother to keep looking for her, instead continuing to make my way toward Advanced Language Arts. I pause by one of the long windows, slowing my walk to a crawl that keeps me going but I can also pay attention to what’s going on outside. A train races by the grass courtyard, shining silver in the morning sun and silent from inside the noisy building. I watch in wonder as dozens of teenagers clad in black leap from the train in packs, running off their momentum or rolling on the ground. Some push each other around playfully and I can tell by the way that they move that they are speaking loudly.

Dauntless and Abnegation are the only two factions I don’t have family in. My parents can’t stand the Dauntless, they think that they’re too loud, too brutish, too vulgar. I think that they’re fascinating; they all look so happy the way that they are, happy in a way that so many in Erudite don’t look. Dauntless seems like an infinitely warmer place that Erudite. Does that mean I would join them? Well no, I mean I don’t think so; I’ve never really considered it much. Even watching them as I do sometimes I’m still not entirely sure if I’m awestruck and admiring or just intrigued. I really wish that we learned more about other factions; I think that it would be a lot easier for me to choose if I knew what I was getting into. Although I think that’s the opposite of the point; we’re supposed to choose our faction because that is what we are, because we are intelligent, kind, honest, selfless, or brave and not because we want all the perks that come with being that. I know that there are great differences between every faction, that each lives to best suit their virtue. Erudite, as an essential and enriching faction with a hand in everyone’s lives and also being one of the largest factions, lives in luxury. Prosperity is our priority, always striving for more and better and pushing ourselves farther for our own gain. Abnegation says that makes us selfish, not that I care. I know that I will never be Abnegation. Still, their suggestion is annoying; it’s not just about that they say it, it’s how they say it. With the insinuation that they are somehow infallible because they alone are free from desires, that even the Amity will take drastic measures for their own gain if they thought it would make them happy. Now of course, Abnegation are not to insult others it goes against their code of conduct. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, they’re just obnoxiously polite about it. If they really didn’t fight, then Erudite wouldn’t have the problems with Abnegation that we do. I know that watching the Dauntless is foolish, useless, and childish. I know that I have places to be. I’m not like the Dauntless; it’s useless thinking about it. I don’t want to think about the other factions at all, that should make it easier to stay, right? That isn’t to say I haven’t thought about joining Mark or Minerva, but I just don’t know how I could ever leave my parents and everything that I’ve ever known. I don’t know how to quell this feeling of dissatisfaction, this hunger for more inside of me. I don’t know what I want, but I want it more than anything in the world and it’s driving me nuts.

I turn away from the window and walk toward my first class.

I don’t have to think about it right now. The next four or so hours are business as usual.

And then I will have the answer to all of the questions I’ve been asking myself.


	2. The Test

The tests begin after lunch. I won’t be taking any of my afternoon classes today so I’ll have plenty of time to think about my choice. We mostly did nothing in class; one would think that the teachers would want to cram all they could into one last lesson because for some of us this will be our last day of school for the rest of our lives, but that would be wrong. It was mostly just parting words and free time. This was everyone else's last day of the school year too, but they'll be back again and they also got to leave before lunch. We're stuck here until at least the end of the school day barring some sort of illness or injury. No one knows what the test because we’re not supposed to be told, so none of us know what to expect.

I sit between Casey and my other friend; Elizabeth Reynolds, known to most as Eliza. Eliza is a bit arrogant to say the very least. She always has been, but it’s not like she doesn’t have a reason to be. She’s is highly intelligent and has a knack for navigating life with a certain sensibility and grace that I could never amount to. She radiates elegance in every aspect of her life, a product of her upbringing I guess – though that just raises the question why I can’t be like that because we grew up together. Like Casey and I, Eliza was born to powerful people. Her father, Jason, is a very well-respected researcher in his field and works very closely with the head of the head of the pharmacology department. Her mother, Cynthia, owns the largest makeup company in the city; it’s branched out from just being an Erudite business to opening a shop in City Center where people of all factions can go.

In some ways, Eliza reminds me a lot of Melanie. Melanie’s kind of arrogant too but totally has a reason to be to be with how smart she is, and Eliza has that same drive to know everything that they can about everything. But Eliza’s greatest interests lie in chemistry and software engineering, both careers that Erudite always needs new people in.

I met Eliza when we were seven at one of my parents’ many dinner parties after the adults shooed away the kids so they could drink and talk without being disturbed. I like her a lot; I always have. She’s funny and she’s got this energy about her that repulses some and draws in others. She’s one of the really competitive Erudite, but neither of us really feel like we have to compete with each other or Casey. We’re all totally secure in our friendship and we all know where we stand. It’s not that Casey and I aren’t smart enough to keep up with Eliza because we definitely are, it’s just that neither of us really want to compete against her like others do. She is our dearest friend and we’re all just really invested in supporting each other. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for either of them, all that they have to do ask. And I know for certain that they feel the same about me.

Eliza twirls a lock of her silky black hair around her finger as she talks, her voice laced with haughty contempt. “Dahlia doesn’t know what she’s talking about and I’m more than happy to set her right if she would only get off her high horse and listen.”

Eliza holds a particular disdain quite a few classmates of ours and from what I know, there are many that feel the same about her. She speaks of Dahlia often, and I can’t say that I disagree with her. Like I said, some of the acquaintances I have are just terrible.

“She’s so arrogant,” Casey says. “And totally underserving.”

“Mhm.” Eliza nods in agreement. “I’m so sick of her acting like she’s better than me or something.”

“At least I’ll never have to see her again after today,” Casey says with a smile that contrasts the heavy nature of her statement that isn’t lost on Eliza and I. But we all knew that this day was coming; we’ve known for years that Casey would leave us and, like me, Eliza is just glad that she’s pursuing her own happiness.

“Ugh, Mimi and I are probably going to be stuck with her forever,” Eliza says with a roll of her eyes.

No one wants to discuss our choices without certainty. But I’m the only one of my friends without it. Eliza knows and has always known that Erudite is where she truly belongs. It suits her, she loves it here and she knows how to excel in way that sort of scares me. Casey has always known that she’s leaving and in recent months has begun to look toward Amity as her new home. I think that suits her too, I really do think that she’ll be happy there.

Casey and Eliza sort of assume that I’m staying because of how deeply tied to the place I am and I don’t have the nerve to tell them that I’m not sure. I want to tell them now, but there are too many other people around. I want to tell them now, but I don’t want Eliza to freak out. I want to tell them now, but I’m still not sure if I’m not going to stick around. I wish that this were simpler; I wish there was some sort of ‘idiot’s guide to choosing a faction’ or something, I think that would really help. Maybe the notion that knowing more would make my life easier means that I’m fated for Erudite. Maybe if I just keep repeating that I belong somewhere than eventually I will; maybe that’s just how it works for everyone.

I do not think that is how it works for everyone.

My lack of response creates a pocket of awkwardness as Eliza and Casey both look to me to laugh with them and join their casual disparaging of Dahlia’s character. Not that she doesn’t totally have it coming.

Before I can force the awkward laugh from my throat and stumble over an agreement of how much it will suck to always be around Dahlia all the time, I receive a text from my sister that gives me an excuse to look away. Melanie asks me to lunch after I’m done with testing and I tell her that that sounds lovely. I might even be able to get some advice on what to do from her. Of course, Melanie always knew who she was going to be and where she belonged, I remember her always saying ‘ _When I’m a member…_ ’ like there was never any alternative because for her I suppose there wasn’t. I doubt there was one for Michael either; my reserved and studious brother who spent so much of his time holed up in his room studying long before he began initiation. Erudite is woven into the twins, and my parents, and Jeanine, and Eliza in a way that I wish it could be a part of me. I wish that I could just exude that energy, have that personality; I wish that I were just a little bit more like them so that I would know exactly what to do. They have all always known exactly what to do.

With Mark and Minerva my memories are always a little fuzzier. Honestly, I don’t remember a lot of Mark before he was getting close to leaving. I wasn’t around him like I was around the twins and I can’t really remember him acting really ‘like Amity’. He didn’t act like my parents, I remember that, but I also knew enough about people to know that everyone was different. I hear how faction transfers always seem a little _off_ before they leave, but I never saw that with Mark and Minerva. Or maybe it was there and I was just too young to realize.

I wonder if they struggled with their choices like I’m struggling with mine now. I wonder if they fought what they were and my confusion is just me subconsciously suppressing who I really am. But I like to think that I would know if I were Candor or Amity.

All due respect to Minerva and whatever, but I am not terribly fond of Candor. In some ways I can appreciate how straightforward they are, but most of the time I find them to be loud and obnoxious. It’s always the Dauntless and the Candor that talk too much and cause too many distractions. I mean, Erudite also have a tendency to talk too much, that stereotype doesn’t come from nowhere, but at least we know what we’re talking about. Candor just tend to spew out whatever comes into their mind and Dauntless are just crass.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love Minerva and I do admire her work in Candor and I admire what Candor does for this city. But every Candor teenager I have ever met has been nothing short of extremely irritating. At least I know of one good Dauntless my age.

I glance over to where the Dauntless sit and spot her playing cards with a group of three others. She brushes her brown and gold, nearly gravity-defying curls away from her face only for the section to fall right back over her left eye. She notices me out of the corner of her eye and waves; I wave back and the others notice too. A little grin crosses Eliza’s face that she more than happily returns.

I met Kira Elysium when I was thirteen, which was when the others met her too. We were all just hanging around during the break in the park when Kira waltzed over to us and just sat down, jumping in on our conversation like we’d been friends for years. She’s as bold as she is compassionate and fits in with our little group very, very well. Of course, she has friends of her own in Dauntless who’s names escape me because I only seen them once or twice. She says she likes to think of her friendship with us like an alter ego, no pressure to be daring and out there; she can be as bookish and nerdy as she likes without anyone giving her shit for it. She isn’t terribly interested in Dauntless, but she seems endlessly enchanted and fascinated by Erudite. I think she knows what faction she’ll be choosing tomorrow too.

I know that most Dauntless aren’t Kira, that she’s a rarity, that she’s always been more Erudite than Dauntless and so I don’t base any of my opinions of them off of her. If I did then I’d probably think much better of them. Kira likes her birth faction well enough. She’s told us that she thinks it’s a fine place to be, but she never says much of it past that. I think that she’s is as scared of leaving as I am. Neither of us are like Casey; even though Kira seems to have fallen in love with Erudite she is still hesitant to make any commitments. Speaking of commitments, I know that she and Eliza have had a thing for each other for a while now. I know because they’ve both told me and both of them are aware that the other likes them back. But interfaction dating isn’t allowed and even if it were Eliza could never date a Dauntless, and like I said Kira is still not totally ready to jump ship yet. Even so, I don’t think that she’ll be staying there. I think that, if I stay, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other during initiation.

Her fascination with Erudite aside, Kira’s really crazy smart. I know that I’m smart, and I know that Casey and Eliza are smart, and I’m sure there are smart Dauntless, but Kira is on another level. Kira really is Erudite smart and if she were Erudite I think she would be some of Eliza’s greatest competition. She learns all that she does because she thinks it’s fun, because she enjoys the hands on work that she can do as much as she enjoys reading about things in the abstract. I know that she enjoys mechanics, that she volunteers at a Dauntless repair shop in her free time that her uncle worked for a while back. She really loves it, but as she says, it’s just a hobby; she doesn’t think that it will be something permanent.

If I could invite Kira over to sit with us, I would. I love talking to her because on top of everything else, she’s super witty too. Her quick humor and spur of the moment jokes are one of the many things that I love about her. But none of us are allowed to move from our tables and go interact with kids from other factions. For all that we’re supposed to coexist happily and interact, there sure are a lot of limits on just how we can interact with each other. All that we can do is sit with our respective factions and just do what we’re supposed to.

I look around at the other tables, first noticing the others that belong to my own faction. Everyone is either studying or talking. Some had enough foresight to bring a book that they actually want to read (i.e. literally anything besides the textbooks that we have. All of them are digital downloads with hard copies kept in class, but it’s the only reading material we were provided if we forgot our own stuff). Others type on laptops or tablets. We’re supposed to be studying, but I really doubt that it matters as long as you don’t get caught. Most of us started out the waiting period buried in our books and tech, but as time wore on the quiet slowly began to break down and a lot of kids have abandoned their stuff for conversations with their friends.

To the left of the Erudite tables are the Dauntless tables. Looking past Kira and her friends playing cards, I see that other Dauntless are doing the same or talking much more loudly. Others brought other games to play to pass the time. That entire section of the cafeteria is just a lot of noise. The Dauntless are as beautiful as they are fascinating to me. My siblings and parents never hesitate to roll their eyes at the Dauntless look but I think it’s great. They look comfortable (more comfortable than I have ever been in some of my dresses) while at the same time being stunning. Between their tattoos, piercings, dramatic makeup, and unnatural hair colors that take up their entire head paired with creative styles, their bodies are works of art in and of themselves. To me it is a very attractive, if slightly off putting, look; and I know for a fact that Eliza thinks so too. Erudite also has a lot of dramatic makeup, but Dauntless’ is darker and heavier. They are less focused on making themselves look perfect and more on making themselves noticeable. I have seen people with eyeshadow and lipstick as bright and colorful as their hair in every color imaginable, always paired with very heavy eyeliner that draws attention to the eyes.

Candor to my right are no better in the noise department, I suppose. Their faction encourages talking openly at all times, so that is what they do. A few groups, from what I can overhear, are debating something that was in the news this morning, but most of the kids are just chatting about nothing. Some of them look exceptionally bored, like they would rather be doing anything than talking to whoever they’re talking to. I am very familiar with that feeling. Aside from Minerva, I have never been very fond of the Candor, but I can at least appreciate the aesthetic that they have going. Their black and white clothing looks neat and put together just like the clothes in Erudite do. They don’t have as much variety in color, but they make up for it in style. Many of them have a natural beauty about them honed from years of learning how to be stunning without makeup because their faction doesn’t allow it.

Some of the Amity have abandoned their tables to sit on the floor in circles and play games that cause them to erupt into a fit of giggles every five or so minutes. Others remain in their seats and talk excitedly with bright smiles and lots of hand gestures. I can easily see why my brother would have been drawn to Amity; I am a little drawn to Amity. It’s hard not to be when they all just look so happy. Maybe it is not the wisest life to lead; perhaps it won’t lead to great success and prominence, but no one can deny Amity’s importance to our city. And maybe prominence isn’t everything. I mean, Mark obviously didn’t think so. I can see both the physical and metaphorical beauty in Amity. Their lives just seem so carefree, so easy. They never have to stress about anything and everything is always very pleasant. It would be so nice to be that way, to live without a care in the world. There is beauty in their kindness too; their bright smiles and how they always know just what to say. They always seem very in tune with others emotions and are ready to offer comfort even to those outside of their faction. Every Amity just seems to really enjoy being alive and I’ll bet that makes it a little easier to always be nice to people. Amity are pretty physically too. Every faction has sort of a look going for them beyond just colors and Amity’s is very light and soft, like they are. When they’re not working, most of them wear their hair long, loose, and natural. Their skin is perpetually sunkissed from working in the fields and many of them have freckles from the same thing. I look at Casey and I wonder how long it will take her to develop freckles that weren’t there before and a tan. Mark is noticeably slightly darker than the rest of my family and he has a little splash of freckles across his nose that I don’t remember being there when we were children.

The Abnegation sit on the far side of the cafeteria, all of them staring blankly into space with their hands folded. Their faction rules dictate that they’re always supposed to be quiet, still, and unnoticeable until someone can make use of them. There’s not a lot to look at with them; they don’t do anything, they don’t act like anything, the only time they ever say anything is when it’s their leaders. In a way I find it odd how they can always be so quiet, but in a way I do admire them. They always seem to be totally at peace, totally comfortable with fading into the background. I guess that if you never think about yourself then there’s nothing to be uncomfortable with. I kind of respect and envy that.

Eliza is called with the next group and as she stands neither Casey nor I wish her luck or reassure her, she doesn’t need it. Eliza knows who she is and where she belongs; she always has. She’s going to be an amazing Erudite who will do incredible things just like her parents, like my family, like the department heads. I think that Eliza will be one of them some day; maybe she’ll even be faction leader.

“I’m kind of nervous,” Casey says quietly, twisting her fingers together.

I nod, “Me too. But it’ll be fine; we - we already know where we belong.” The words feel wrong in my mouth, like the kind of lie that makes your skin crawl and you feel uncomfortable for ever saying it.

She nods with a strange look on her face. “Right.”

We fall into silence and she goes back to her book so I glance down at my phone, trying to pass the time by scrolling through my pictures. I’m not exactly one of those people who takes pictures of everything, but I do have some good ones. Most of them feature my friends, laughing and smiling. But flipping through them only makes the fear in my chest stronger. I don’t want to have to leave; I don’t want to lose them, I don’t want to be separated. But whether I leave or not things are about to change and they’ll never go back to the way that they used to be. Casey is going to leave. I keep saying that I’m okay with it and that it’s not a big deal because I’ve always known, but I’m going to miss her. I want her to be happy, but I also don’t want to lose my best friend. Following her wherever she goes isn’t really an option either; I could never be Amity, and I can’t just abandon Eliza and my family, right?

But I know that they’d all be fine without me if I did leave. Eliza is perfectly self-sufficient and she’s got Kira. My parents have watched two of their children leave already, they might not approve but I would never have to know. If I can’t do anything for myself then I at least want to make everyone else happy, but I can’t because everyone’s going in different directions. I don’t want to be alone and I don’t want to be smothered. I’m so afraid that I won’t survive if I stay in Erudite, or I’ll let everyone down. My family expects so much from me and I don’t want to disappoint them. I’m not Michael or Melanie; I don’t belong like they do, I can never pretend that Erudite is all that I’ve ever wanted and that I’ve always been sure.

When people look at me they always see something that I’m not. It feels like everybody thinks that I’m super smart and really impressive like all of my siblings are, but I’m not. I’ll never be as good as my siblings no matter how much I want to be. That’s always been my friends, they’re more adept than I am at pretty much everything. I mean, I have hobbies and even things that I’m good at. I get good grades and I’m good at talking to people, but I’m nothing outstanding. The only thing that makes me special is who I’m related to and that’s practically nothing if I can’t live up to my family’s legacy. Everyone I’m related to is special; everyone I’m related to is talented, and smart, and outstanding. Their greatness is natural and effortless; it’s something that they’ve always known and something that they just _are_. I work really hard at everything I do and I’m still nowhere as good at anything as anyone I know. I’m not oblivious; I know that I’m not the best fighter, or the best cellist, or student. I’ll never be as smart as Kira and Eliza, I’ll never be elegant and perfect like my mother, or strong like Minerva, or effortlessly kind like Mark and Casey. I’m nice, but I can’t draw people to me; and I’m not clumsy, but I am hardly perfect.

Erudite places a lot of importance on knowing what your good at; we call it finding your niche. The idea is that you find what you’re really, really good at and you stick to it. Supposedly everyone has one and that’s what you’re meant to do and be. If I have one, then I haven’t found it yet. Maybe if I could, then it would be easier to figure out what I want to do.

Because that’s what this all circles back to; I don’t know what to do. I feel lost and I’m terrified that nothing I’ll ever do will be what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m really afraid that I’m going to make a mistake, make the wrong choice, and spend the rest of my life miserable. I only get one chance to make my life the best life I can live.

Eliza comes back ten minutes or so later as calm and confident as she was when she left.

“How did it go?” Casey asks.

“Just fine,” she says with a smirk. Neither of us have to ask what she got, we’re not supposed to but that doesn’t exactly stop people, we both already know she got Erudite.

She’ll be really happy here, she’ll do great. I wonder if I’ll get to see it, I really don’t know. I think it’d be cool for her, Kira, and I to rise through the ranks together and for Eliza and I to be the people everyone wants us to be together, and for Kira to be a Dauntless that my parents don’t hate. I think it would be wonderful five years from now to be Melanie and Michael’s age and feel totally at home in tones of blue, surrounded by glass and steel, looking back on today and wonder why I ever worried. To be right there when Eliza claims all of the success that she’s always deserved, to be at her side the whole time; and Kira along with us, shocking everyone time and time again.

But even as I think this I still can’t help but think that this only sounds amazing in theory. In reality I know that it would be hard for all of us, that we’d struggle. Erudite weeds out the weak with brutal efficiency through vicious competition and I don’t worry about Eliza, but Kira and I could get cut down not because we’re not smart enough, but because we’re not as cutthroat as others. As much as I hate her, Dahlia could probably best me easily because she’s as devoted to competing as Eliza is. I might fail.

I do not want to fail.

My thoughts are interrupted as an Abnegation volunteer calls the next group for testing; two from Amity, two from Candor, two from Dauntless (Kira is one of them), two from Abnegation, and then, “From Erudite, Cassandra Diarmond and Mimette Malachite-Captor.”

I stand on trembling legs, smoothing my skirt and leave my journal behind with Eliza. Casey and I walk closely to each other and I want to take her hand to calm my nerves, but I don’t want to appear vulnerable. I am aware that I’m noticeable, I know that people see me and as the daughter of Erudite’s representative I know that there’s always a bit of a spotlight on me. I learned very young that I had to always be conscious of how I look, that I had to project confidence and grace all the time and uphold the core ideals of my faction. I have to be the perfect daughter, especially now that I’m the only one left under my parents’ care. I’m not perfect, but I can never let everyone else know that.

I nearly bump into an Abnegation girl as I go through the door, both of us stepping back quickly. After a moment I realize that it’s the same one that I smacked into in the hallway this morning. She gestures for me to go first and I do, muttering an apology.

Through the door is a hallway with ten frosted glass doors. Each of us goes through one, I glance at Casey one more time before we’re separated.

Inside the room is a chair and a computer terminal with an Abnegation woman sitting at it. We aren’t allowed to be tested by members of our own faction, so most of the volunteers are Abnegation with the exception of a few. The woman’s back is to me as she finishes something; her dark brown hair tied into the same bun that every Abnegation woman wears but hers has a few sections of hair that have fallen loose from it. I close the door behind me with a click and she turns at the sound.

She smiles gently, “My name is Maria. Have a seat please.”

The chair’s back is reclined and so when I lean back I am staring straight up at the ceiling.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Maria says. “It’s actually rather easy.”

“What happens?” I ask.

“I can’t say. Don’t worry about it, just do what feels natural.”

“What does that mean?” Like everyone in my faction, I ask a lot of questions. But I’m sure she’s been getting this all afternoon.

“Don’t worry about it.” She moves some of the loose curls behind her ear. Her eyes are dark and look as warm as her smile.

She hands me a vial of blue tinged liquid. “Drink this.”

“What does it do?”

“I can’t say, you’ll just have to trust me. The test will begin immediately afterward.”

I drink it all in one gulp and lean back again. I feel tired and heavy almost immediately. All I can do is close my eyes as my awareness of everything around me fades away.

 

When I open my eyes, I am in the cafeteria again. In front of me are two pedestals, each one holding a basket. In one basket is a knife as long as my forearm, gleaming silver in the bright light, and in the other is a slab of raw meet.

“Choose,” a voice says.

“Why?” I look around for the source of the voice and find nothing.

“Choose,” the voice repeats.

I look between the baskets, trying to decide. I reach out and hover over the meat for a minute before going to the knife and then back and then back again. Finally, I pick up the knife. This isn’t the first time I’ve held a knife, Melanie throws knives as a hobby and collects the pretty ones. Hers are far more elegant than the simple black and silver one I hold now.

I hear a noise behind be and turn to see a large black and brown dog growling. I can see its massive sharp teeth from here and I look down at the knife in my hand, knowing what I’m meant to do with it. But I can’t. I can’t kill this dog, I can’t and I won’t.

I throw the knife off to the side and hear it clatter to the floor somewhere. I step back slowly. There’s no way that I’ll be fast enough to make it all the way to the door, I wish that I’d grabbed the meat.

The dog snarls and runs at me. I don’t have a lot of experience with animals, Erudite doesn’t allow pets, but I know that usually they are more afraid of you than you are of them. Going down to their level and allowing them to approach you on their own terms works well, to be as gentle and nonthreatening as possible.

I, very slowly, kneel down to its height as it continues to run at me. I expect it to pounce on me and I brace for the impact but instead it skids to a stop in front of me. Very slowly, I lift my hand and hold it out in front of me for the dog to sniff. The dog snarls at me and sniffs at my hand. I keep my eyes on the tile and the dog’s feet, keeping my breathing as even as possible. I feel something cold and wet press into my palm and I lift my head slowly. The dog’s snout is pressed into my hand and it looks at me expectantly, its vicious expression gone. I smile slightly and move my hand behind its ears, still slowly so as not to upset it. I scratch behind its ears and it wags its tail, sitting down.

I smile at it. “You’re not so vicious, are you?”

It licks my face and I laugh, wiping the drool away with the back of my hand.

“Puppy!” A child in a white dress exclaims, giggling. “C’mere.”

The dog snarls at the little girl, once again becoming vicious. The child shrieks and flinches, before the dog can run at her I wrap my arms around its neck, keeping it from charging with only my body weight.

I expect to feel sharp teeth sink into me as it thrashes in my arms, but after a moment it stops. I open my screwed shut eyes and I am no longer in the cafeteria, I am sitting on the city bus among dozens of others.

Across the aisle stands a Candor man reading a newspaper. I can’t see his face over the newspaper, but his hands are scarred like he’s been burned as far up as I can see before they disappear into the white sleeves of his jacket. I fold my hands in front of me and stare ahead, reading the front page of his paper. The headline reads, ‘Brutal Murderer Finally Apprehended’ in thick black font. Below the headline is a grainy black and white mugshot of a plain looking man with dark hair and empty eyes. I can’t make out any of the text surrounding the photo thought. Suddenly, the man folds the newspaper so that only the front page shows, his face twisted into a scowl. His face is in the same state as his hands and he wears dark sunglasses, but I can fill in the blanks on what his eyes must look like.

“Do you know this guy?!” he demands, jabbing the mugshot.

I jump slightly looking at the people next to me, and there are people next to me but I can’t quite to focus on their features.

“I’m talking to you, girlie,” he says.

I point to myself, looking around at the other passengers, waiting for them to notice but no one does.

“Yes, you.” I cannot see his eyes, but I do not have to to know that he rolled them. “Well, do you know him?”

I stare intently at the photo, I feel like I might know the man, but the feeling is faint and the photo quality is poor. I glance down to see if there’s a name, but I can’t quite make out any words besides the headline.

“I don’t believe so,” I say. It’s a lie, but he does not seem the sort of person that I want to be honest with.

“I don’t believe you.” He crumples the newspaper.

“You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

“You must be lying to me.” He steps closer and looms over me in my seat.

I rise slowly from my seat, forcing him to take a step back. “I’m not lying.”

“I can see it in your eyes.” I can smell cigarettes on his breath and have to push down the urge to cough.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I try to keep my tone light and pleasant, like dealing with a particularly unpleasant classmate in the presence of a teacher. No one has to know how mean I can be, all I have to do is smile and be polite.

He tilts his sunglasses down and I can see that his eyes are pale green and bloodshot with dark rings under them. “If you knew him, you could save me. You could save me!”

I clench my hands together and look away, anywhere but his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry. I don’t.”


	3. Everything Changes

When I open my eyes, my head hurts and I feel dizzy. The lights are brighter than I remember and I have to squint to see anything. When I turn my head I see Maria staring at the computer with a slight frown. She removes the electrodes from my head and hers and I wait for her to say something. To tell me what faction I would be in, to tell me who I would become. I can’t fail a test I’m not allowed to prepare for, right?

She drums her fingernails against the terminal, humming under her breath. As the moments pass, her frown deepens.

“Did I do badly?” I ask.

She huffs and stops tapping her nails, “No… um, I’m just… um... that was… weird. Stay here for a moment please.” She gets up and leaves the room.

I close my eyes again and the headache begins to subside. I sit up straight in the chair and open my eyes, letting them adjust to the bright light.

I don’t fail tests and one certainly cannot fail this one. No one ever _fails_ the Aptitude Test, everyone has a place that they belong. Or maybe that’s how people end up factionless, maybe some people can’t belong to society. But that’s not me, not with my family, not with the legacy that I come from, the legacy that I have to uphold. I was born to succeed, I was born to do great things because I’m just like my family, sort of. I mean, I’m supposed to measure up, right? I’m supposed to _fit_ because that’s what they all did, that’s what everyone did. I can’t just be destined for factionlessness; I can’t just disappoint everyone like that. Without the test how and I supposed to know what to choose? I’m supposed to have my whole life ahead of me somewhere and all this test is supposed to do is tell me where that is. I mean I’ve always been a little different but everyone is and maybe that’s because I just don’t fit in Erudite but I don’t see why that would be cause for her to just leave like that. Shouldn’t it just be that she tells me where I’m supposed to be and that’s the end of that, right? Because we all belong somewhere, right?

Maria comes back and I want to ask a million questions at once, but I let her speak first.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she says. “I’m sure you’re very anxious to hear your results.”

“Something like that,” I laugh nervously.

Maria presses her lips together, avoiding my eyes. “There’s something that I have to tell you, um ah, a-about your test.”

“Yes?” I lean forward slightly.

“Mimette, your results were…inconclusive.” She looks back at the door quickly as though she expects someone to walk in.

I cock my head to the side, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You see, the test works by process of elimination; each stage of the simulation eliminates one or more of the factions, but in your case, only two have been ruled out.”

“Two?” I repeat, confused and with panic beginning to bloom in my chest. “What does that mean?”

Maria nods and sighs, “I’m afraid so. Had you shown an automatic distaste for the meat you would have been Dauntless but you hesitated, hesitated long enough to confuse the system. Your choices didn’t even allow Candor to be a possibility and usually between the dog and the man, threat response can determine your result. But the way that you dealt with the dog and the man were completely unique to each other; both suggesting traces of Amity and Erudite with Dauntless too. I don’t even know what to make of you throwing away the knife. In the end though, results are determined in a percentage.” She holds up a piece of paper. “Your results read: twenty-nine point eight-nine percent Erudite, twenty-six point nine-two percent Dauntless, twenty-four point eight-three percent Amity, twelve point twelve percent Abnegation, and six point two-four percent Candor.”

“So I’m Erudite,” I say, wondering how this could be inconclusive.

“Well, technically yes, but…it’s complicated. You see, a conclusive test result is always twenty percent more than the other four; to have two within ten is rare, to have three within ten percent of each other is…practically unheard of.”

“But that’s impossible,” I say, “everyone falls into a category, that’s just how things are.”

“It’s not…impossible, per say. Just incredibly rare, they call it,” she glances back to the door again and then in barely a whisper says, “they call it Divergent.”

“Divergent…” I repeat under my breath.

“Listen to me, Mimette.” She grabs my shoulders. “You can never tell anyone this. You can never tell anyone what you got on your test.”

“Of course.” I nod. “We aren’t supposed to talk about our results.”

“No, I mean you can’t tell anyone ever. As far as anyone knows you received an Erudite result…because that is what I manually entered in the machine. You are going to go back out there and pretend like everything’s fine and you are going to keep pretending that everything is fine forever. This is the sort of secret that you take to your grave.”

“Okay,” I say hesitantly, unable to really properly process the information even though by all accounts I should be totally losing it right now. “May I go now?”

“Yes. But,” she squeezes my shoulders once, “be careful.”

I go back to the cafeteria and sit down next to Eliza, she smiles at me and I smile back. Casey joins us only moments later with a smile, I don’t even have to ask to know that she got what she always wanted. I somehow managed to get the opposite. All I wanted was to know where I belonged, all I wanted as to know what I was supposed to choose. Now I’m even more confused than I was before I sat down in the testing room. I open my notebook and stare at the blank pages, tapping my pen against the paper. I don’t dare write any of what just happened down, not with so many people around and not when it could be read. This is something that I must keep to myself forever. I glance down at my phone and check the time, it hasn’t even been half an hour since I stood up from this chair and yet somehow that is all it took to turn my entire life upside down.

The logical thing to do is to choose Erudite, that is my highest percentage and that is what I have always known. I could fit in best here because I already know what to do and how to act. I am perfectly smart enough to thrive here and I already have good connections. No one would ever suspect that there was something odd about me.

But I can’t help but think of the possibility of elsewhere, of the other places I could go. Amity, happy and bright and endlessly surrounded by nature and laughter. A place where I could live my life in peace and happiness with my brother and my oldest friend. Or Dauntless; brave, mysterious, and awesome. Always chasing thrills, loud and laughing. In Dauntless I could forge my own path, it would be something entirely new to me and there is something enticing about that. I could do anything, I could be anyone. Anyone except who Minerva would like me to be, anyone but Abnegation, but that is never what I’ve wanted to be anyways. If I join the Dauntless I will never be at Kira’s side, she is leaving and that I know. But it’s not about Kira, it’s about becoming everything that I’ve never known. Or being among the happiest people in the city, the Amity. Or living my life in the little world that I was born into, in the place where I have been set up to thrive.

Of course, there is no guarantee that I would ever make it through the initiation of wherever I choose. There is always the opportunity to fail. I don’t like to think of myself as someone who fails, but people wash out of pretty much every faction every year. Erudite has something like a twenty-five percent chance of failure and that’s being optimistic. I am not Eliza, and I’m not my parents, or Jeanine, or the twins. I’m not like them because I don’t _belong_ like they do; I wasn't born to be Erudite like they were.

“So that’s it,” Eliza says with a smirk. “It’s over.”

I nod.

“Now comes the hard part,” Casey says, still grinning.

“Sure,” Eliza says, “but now we’ve got out whole lives ahead of us _and_ we know what we’re supposed to do.”

“Certainly takes some of the pressure off,” Casey agrees.

Part of me wants to scream and I wish that I could tell them how wrong they are. Casey is Amity bound and Eliza is going to remain, I could go either way or somewhere else entirely. I could become whoever I want and that should make me happy, it should fill me with excitement for the future when I get to see what I’m going to become. But really I just want to know how I’m supposed to act, it’s what I’ve done all my life. I’ve just done exactly as I’m told and become what I should be, now I have the opportunity to change that like I never have. Casey has the strength to do it, do I? Not really. Maybe I should just choose Erudite and be done with it, maybe I should just be the person that everyone wants and expects me to be. But I can’t say for sure if that would make me happy. I just want to be happy. Maybe that means that I’m cut out for Amity really, the happiest of the five factions.

Maybe I’m not cut out for anywhere at all.

At the end of the school day everyone who can leave does and the ones with friends stuck behind shoot sympathetic glances at them. Casey, Kira, Eliza, and I walk out the front doors together and they break off left toward The Commons, where all the students hang out but I tell them that I already committed to having lunch with Melanie and I’ll catch up with them later. They wave goodbye to me and then dive into their own conversation. It’s all so easy for them, everything they do seems so effortless. The incredible way that they are comes so easily to them in a way that it never has for me. I have spent my entire life in everyone’s shadow and my friends are no exception; each of them is the sun in their own right; bright, and brilliant, and beautiful, and I just do what I can. I would be completely unremarkable without my connections; people tell me otherwise, Eliza always says that she likes me for a reason, but I can’t help but wonder what that reason is. Whatever it is, I don’t see it.

 

I let Melanie pick the restaurant and she is waiting for me when I arrive. I smile as soon as I catch sight of her, some of my worries rolling off my shoulders. We always try to make time for each other, but sometimes it feels like I haven’t seen her in forever and Michael is exactly the same way. But that’s okay; my sister loves me, and nothing’s ever going to change that. Even if I choose to leave, ‘ _faction before blood_ ’ be damned, my family will always love me. Mark and Minerva are still very much part of the family and they always will be.

“Hey, Mim,” Melanie says with a smile when I sit down.

I pick up the menu. “Hi, Mel, how are things?”

“Busy as ever. Victoria said to tell you hello. She wishes she could be in upper levels with you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she does.” Victoria is a child prodigy and she can do college level work but she isn’t allowed to advance because everything before upper levels is planned around the Choosing Ceremony. It’s a constant battle to keep her stimulated during school and most of her teachers are at the end of their rope, but so is Victoria because she’s bored to tears and incredibly aware of how much smarter than everyone she is. “How’s Gwendolyn?”

That’s the name of Victoria’s older sister, Melanie’s fiancée.

“Lovely.” She pauses. “Busy, but lovely still.”

“How’s wedding planning going?”

She groans. “If I have to look at one more floral arrangement, I’m going to puke.” She chuckles. “Remind me to ask Mom and Dad if they have the number for Damascus’ floristry place.”

I raise my eyebrows “Damascus? _Really_?”

Damascus Steele was once a family friend, he was close to our parents and his daughter, Pandora, was close to Mark and all of us really but especially Mark. We were practically family until I was about five and then he stopped talking to us. Pandora came around all the time still and sometimes we would see him in passing, but every moment was undercut with a tension I didn’t understand and my parents just refuse to acknowledge that he ever existed in the first place. I hardly knew him so it’s easy for me, but not so much for my siblings.

She shrugs. “He has a gift. I see no reason not to.”

“How about because Mom and Dad hate him or something?”

She scoffs. “They do not _hate_ him.” Her eyes flicker away for a second as she pauses. “I think…”

Apparently they never really bothered to explain anything about what happened to any of my siblings either.

“How’s work?” I change the subject.

“Work’s busy, like always. You know?”

I nod. “I do.”

“You excited to start working next year?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

“Guess it depends on where you choose,” she chuckles. “How did your test go anyways?”

“My test was fine.” I know that she’s not just remembering, she’s probably been wanting to talk to me about this all day.

“What was your result?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you, and you’re not supposed to ask.”

“Oh come on, don’t be so uptight. I’m going to see your results anyways; I help run those tests.”

I almost spit out the water I was drinking. “Y-you do?”

“As head of the psychology department it’s part of my job to gather the aptitude test data and analyze it for the council. I can go through everyone’s individually if I wanted to.” And I don’t doubt that she’ll see that my result had to be entered manually. She’ll figure out that something’s up.

“W-what do you do with the data?” I ask.

“Nice subject change.” She rolls her eyes. “Everyone’s just always curious what sort of percentage of the population is receiving what results; it’s not the same every year, you know. It’s also how they make preparations for how to deal with next year’s initiates.”

“Not this year’s?”

“All of those preparations have already been made and set in stone, or at least they should have been. We’re always a year behind, but results don’t tend to vary too dramatically.”

I nod, genuinely interested. The Aptitude Test and Choosing Ceremony are extremely fundamental parts of our society that affect more people's lives than just the initiates and those that train them. Erudite gets hundreds of initiates each year as do Candor and Amity and so new living spaces are always having to be built. There was a time when Dauntless and Abnegation were quite large too, but numbers have really dropped in the recent years, mostly because no one likes them. Candor and Amity are easy factions to get into and provide relatively easy lives to lead. No one can say that the jobs aren’t demanding both physically and mentally, but they don’t demand your full and undivided attention like lots of Erudite jobs do and the life there is easy and luxurious compared to life in Dauntless and Abnegation. But still, lots of people come to Erudite chasing the luxury and beauty that we have and that’s why so many people fail, because they don’t belong. I am so afraid of being one of those people.

“Michael and I are going to swing by together with everyone else, you know, to have one last dinner together,” she says and I grimace at the second part of her sentence. I don’t want tonight to be the last night I ever spend in my home. I don’t want tonight to be the last dinner that I ever have with my family. I am so, so scared of how much everything is going to change. I’ve known this was coming, that tomorrow I become an adult and the rest of my life kicks off from there, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it right. I can’t fail; I just want to make my family proud.

Before I can even begin to tell Melanie any of this her phone rings. She frowns and answers, mouthing ‘sorry’ as she steps away from the table.

I can still hear her over by the wall and listen in, already knowing what’s coming.

“Can’t this wait? I’m a little busy right – No…No, yes of course I understand…Yes…Yes, I’ll be there right away.” She sighs as she hangs up, already looking apologetic as she approaches the table.

“Let me guess,” I say, “a work thing.”

“Always,” she sighs. “I’m really sorry, Mim. I promise I’ll try to make it by tonight.”

“Don’t sweat it if you can’t, it’s not a big deal,” I say even though it sort of is. But I’ve been getting this all my life; I’ve perfected the art of being graceful about everyone always having to step out early, and not being able to make it to things that matter to me. I’ve perfected the art of hiding my disappointment and annoyance because I know that it’s necessary. I even manage to fool myself from time to time, pretend that I’m so used to it that it no longer matters to me. But of course it matters, because it seems like my time with my family is always limited by one work thing or another; trying to get us all together is like herding cats, because even when everyone can manage to find an opening in their schedule it seems like every time at least one person is whisked away by an emergency.

“I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t an emergency,” she says as she shrugs on her long navy jacket.

“I know. Can I ask what it is this time?” I tack on the last two words without meaning to, bitterness creeping into my voice.

“There was…some sort of problem with the testing. A system failure in a few of the tests concentrated in one of the groups of ten. I swear, this happens every year. But it’s never been so concentrated and so protocol dictates…Whatever, I’m already late.” She presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, Mim. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I call after her. I don’t know when she’ll get the chance to ‘make it up to me’, I might not see her again for a long time after tomorrow. Maybe she’ll make it to dinner.

She probably won’t.

 

The Commons is a massive park a block and a half south of the upper levels campus surrounded by the hustle and bustle of life in City Center. Sometimes it feels like its own miniature version of the city; students from every faction gather there to hang around after classes. I met Kira here when we were thirteen, she just sort of dropped down at the table Casey, Eliza, and I were at and started talking. She needed help with whatever homework we were working on and then she just never left.

The Commons is a far more peaceful coexistence than school, it’s the same students but everyone just seems more tolerable in a wide open space that everyone chooses to inhabit. Kids who never interact during the school day will sit together in the Commons and laugh and talk like they’re old friends.

It’s a nice little spot too; right across from three restaurants and a coffee shop with the citywide library only just down the street. The park itself is full of trees that look like fire with the September temperatures and abstract sculptures that that the Dauntless kids like the climb on. The entire space is also dotted with tables and benches for groups to sit and work or talk, but mostly talk.

I walk through the park and admire the leaves, shivering slightly as a cold breeze blows through.

My three friends are sitting around a table chatting like they always do. For a second I see Casey in Amity red and yellow, the same colors as some of the leaves, and Kira in deep blues that make her skin look even darker. Then I blink and they’re the same as they always have been. Kira brushes a stray curl back as Casey and Eliza laugh at something she said. I join them at the table, sliding in next to Casey.

“Hey, Mimette,” Kira says. “How was your sister.”

I shrug, “Same as always, you know?”

All three of them nod, understanding my meaning; Casey and Eliza having been in the same situation with their own families and Kira knows enough of how my ‘quality time’ with my family tends to go to understand. It’s just something that everyone’s sort of used to; something that she will have to get used to too when she lives in Erudite. A lot of the time the people you love just don’t have any time for you and it sucks but that’s just how things are. It’s part of the reason that I feel like I might as well be living alone in my house, why my friends can come and go unnoticed and often unannounced. My parents aren’t around to care and when they do come home, usually my friends are already there and they’re quite hospitable.

After about fifteen minutes of talking casually, Casey stands up.

“I should get going,” she says. “I want to make it home before my father does.”

“I should probably go too,” Eliza says. “Lord knows my parents will find _something_ for me to do – or more accurately, yell at me for not doing – at home if I don’t get there before them.”

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I say with a wave. I probably won’t wind up seeing them tomorrow. The Choosing Ceremony tends to be pretty nuts and there’s people everywhere. I get up and wrap Casey in a tight hug. “Hey, I’m really happy that we got to be friends and, uh, that I just got to be a part of your life.”

“I love you, Mimette.” She squeezes me back. “You’ve been good to me.”

“I love you too.”

We separate and Kira says her goodbyes to Casey while I move on to Eliza.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” she says, her eyes wide and hopeful. She doesn’t want to lose me too, Eliza and I have always been close and without Kira and Casey I’m all she has.

But I don’t know if I can just promise her my future like that. “Yeah, of course.”

I do anyways.

She smiles. “Alright, see you then.” She hugs me.

Casey waits to leave until Eliza and Kira have finished talking, their hands clasped and staring into each other’s eyes. Casey wraps her arm around Eliza’s shoulders and they walk away chatting.

Kira sits down next to me again, resting her head on her hand. She smiles at me. “So I guess tomorrow’s the day.”

I nod. “You know what you’re going to do?”

She is silent for some time before she drags her hand through her hair, mussing up her curls further. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Good luck, Kira.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna need it.” She chuckles without humor. “Think we all will. Same to you, Mimette. Do you think you know?”

I stare into Kira’s bright brown eyes, almost amber in the late afternoon light. Part of me wants to tell her the whole truth, to let it all come rushing out at once and hope to god that I can trust her. But I swallow that urge down and shrug. “Think so. Hope so, anyways.”

“I think you’ll figure it out,” she says. “Everyone always does.”

_I think I might be the exception to that statement, Kira_ , I respond in my head.

If I stay, then we’ll always be together. It will be the three of us; Kira, Eliza, and I forever. But, and they’d both laugh at me for thinking this, I don’t want to be the third wheel forever. I love Kira and Eliza, but they’re going to be together and then I’ll just be there. Not to mention that I will never fit in like they do. Even Kira, as a Dauntless transfer, is more purely Erudite than I will ever be. Whether I stay or go I am always going to be out of place.

As my mother likes to say, that is how it is always going to be.


	4. No Place Like Home

I push the front door open and listen to the electronic lock reengage, it’s the only noise in the house besides my own breathing. I live in a really nice part of the city. It’s near the center and relatively big because my mother is our faction head’s right hand. There’s no one home to greet me, there never is. I like it, or at the very least, I’m used to it.

“Home sweet home,” I say to nothing. I look around and try not to think about how this is the last afternoon I will ever come back to this house after school.

I walk up to my room and drop my schoolbag next to my desk. Then I walk out and down the hall stopping at the first door to the right of mine.

We have guests often enough to warrant a guest bedroom, which is what Melanie’s old room has been converted into. Mostly it’s just Jeanine, working too late into the night to bother with driving home, but my cousins come to stay from time to time as well. Two years ago, Victoria lived with us for several months and this is where she stayed. It’s not really something that I like to remember, probably one of the most miserable events I’ve ever experienced second-hand. Her parents died horribly and she was living in a strange faction with her sister who’d transferred years ago and was woefully unprepared to raise a child. That was before Gwendolyn and Melanie were living together, when Gwendolyn was still looking for a house because her apartment was little more than a hole in the wall that she barely even lived in. All she’d ever needed it for before was to have a bed to collapse into after working all day and through most of the night. I went there a few times; there were six pieces of furniture at the very most and she’d never really bothered with decorating. My family did everything that we could for the two of them, but it wasn’t easy then and I would argue that it still isn’t easy. Victoria fits well in Erudite; she’s studious, and quiet, and well behaved. But she’s closed in on herself in a way that even concerns Gwen, who has very few friends to speak of on account of the fact that she cares about Vic, Melanie, and her work and basically nothing else.

I flop down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I remember very well what this room looked like before Melanie was gone; the clothes everywhere, the messy desk, the bookshelf packed beyond what it was really meant to hold, a corkboard where she kept pictures and other keepsakes from events. It was a lively kind of chaos that’s not like how Melanie is now. She grew up; she’s poised, and perfect, and elegant just like our mom. I sometimes wonder to myself if I’ll grow into that too and I’ve just yet to figure it out. Unfortunately, I don’t really have the time to see if that’s what happen; if I really can just grow into everything I’m supposed to be. Melanie’s been perfect to some degree or another for basically as long as I can remember. Even before she was the way she is today she was always good at everything she tried and always tried at everything she did. I’ve looked up to and envied her since I was a child in the way that most younger siblings do.

I wonder if she feels the same way about Minerva. Probably not; Minerva’s amazing but she’s different, she fundamentally grates against the values that were instilled in us since we were children with basically everything she does. She doesn’t believe in tradition or convention and she’s never tried to hide that. But Melanie – and Michael too actually – for as much as the love her, don’t really seem to agree. Michael, I know, thinks that everything has limits and there’s only so far that you can push.

It’s not as small minded as it sounds, I promise. Erudite is a lot of things but small minded isn’t one of them.

I pick at the plain bedspread, fighting the urge to fall asleep here. I wonder what my parents will do with my bedroom after I’m gone; what project they’ll take up. Maybe a private library like the one Jeanine has, like the one they’ve wanted for years but never truly got around to. Instead, our books are scattered on high shelves about the house, packed tight with my parents’ impressive collection of material.

It used to feel like my siblings lingered in their old rooms, the twins in particular. Parts of Melanie and Michael stuck around long after they left in a way that they didn’t with Mark and Minerva. I was young when they left; not too young to feel it but too young to be close to them like I was close to the twins. Michael used to tell me stories, read to me, explain the latest thing he was learning about to put me to sleep when I was young; Melanie taught me everything she learned to entertain me. They were born to be Erudite and I was their precious little sister.

I love them. They linger.

I love Mark and Minerva too, but they don’t feel like that. It doesn’t feel like the ghosts of them wander around the house when I’m lonely. Maybe that’s because I was so young when they left, maybe it’s because every trace of them but our family photos has been scrubbed clean by time and change; or maybe it’s just been so long that my connection to living with them, the way that they were an inextricable part of my day to day life is nothing but a fond memory. I wonder if my parents feel that way too; I wonder if they’ll feel that way when I’m gone. In these recent months I have missed living with my siblings more than I ever have before and it’s hard to tell if that’s because I actually miss them and constantly having them around or simply longing for a time when I didn’t have to worry about growing up. I was seven when Mark left and that was the first experience I’d ever had with losing someone so close to me. I don’t remember how my parents reacted, but I remember that Minerva was furious and I was terribly upset. I didn’t really understand why my eldest brother had decided to just leave like that. It wasn’t even close to the last time I ever saw him of course. I’ve seen him many times since then, and I try to keep that in mind every time I get scared about never seeing my family again. Mark and Minerva are still as present in my life as they can be; sometimes it feels like they are about as present as the twins are. That’s not really something I like to think about either; no matter how pleasant the thought may be I know it’s not true and all it serves to do is drag me down.

It’s not that I resent any of my siblings for chasing the life that makes them happy, for doing everything that they want for themselves. I love them, it just gets sort of depressing being all alone in this massive house when I can very clearly remember a time when I was never alone, when there were always people around. Things still get crowded from time to time; my parents still have people over for all sorts of things and we go to even more social events than we host, but it’s not the same without my siblings. It’s boring and almost everyone I meet at those events is boring, and sometimes Erudite feels like everything I could ever want and need but sometimes I’m just bored of it all and there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do to get away. I wish that I could talk to one of the twins about it or something, or maybe Gwendolyn or Maureen would be better because they’re both transfers. Gwendolyn came from Dauntless, she would know what it’s like; but she never talks about it, she says that she left for a reason and that’s all she’s ever said of it. She and Maureen are perfect Erudite too, just different kinds. Gwendolyn devotes her entire life to her job and always has; she’s like a supercomputer, it’s really incredible actually. She’s this quiet genius who doesn’t waste time talking and is mostly action.

Maureen has always been great at balancing her life. She’s struck a perfect harmony between her work, her new family, and her hobbies. Her life always seems so simple and easy and I know that’s because she’s put so much work into getting it figured out. I don’t ask her about Candor often, but what she does tell me is hardly anything that I want to do. I never thought to ask her or Gwendolyn what it was like to transfer. I guess I shouldn’t now or that would probably give something away.

Both of them and the twins would tell me to stay; in my position I’m sure that they would stay. I am mostly Erudite so it is only logical that I choose Erudite. My parents would say the same thing.

Mark and Casey would both want me in Amity with them; would try and convince me that it is the place that I would be happiest. And they’re probably right; Amity is an infinitely kinder place than Erudite or Dauntless. But I’m not really sure if kind is what I want or what I am.

Minerva would probably just give me some non-advice like ‘do what feels right’, the problem is that nothing feels right. Nothing feels exactly like it fits me, like I’ll fit anywhere, like I don’t fit anywhere. I just want to be satisfied wherever I am, and I don’t want to fail. I want to be somewhere where I can go far, where I can at least try to live up to my family’s legacy. I am so afraid of falling behind if I stay; afraid of getting lost in the crowd and unable to ever rise to prominence like the rest of my family has. God knows Eliza could and does outclass me easily. Even the rest of the people that I don’t like, like Dahlia, just because I hate them doesn’t mean they aren’t smart. Can I really risk the embarrassment and disappointment of not just falling behind, but never making up to a rank of any importance in the first place? There are so many people that are far more talented than I am, people who work so much harder than I do and I don’t want to fall behind. Erudite is huge, and difficult, and daunting and I can’t say with any certainty that I will survive here; there are so many that don’t.

But would I fare any better in a place like Dauntless?

I like to think that I’m pretty fast; and I might not be as strong as some of those born into the faction but I am far from weak. Still, I’ve heard terrible things about Dauntless and the people that live there and what if that’s just as bad as trying to survive Erudite? What if I can’t make it there either?

I rub my eyes and sit up, drumming my fingers on the bed before standing up again. The clock on the nightstand tells me that it’s almost five. It will be another three hours at least until my dad comes home, and he’s the one of my two parents that comes home early. I very severely doubt that my mother or my siblings will make it over tonight. Between the problems with the Aptitude Tests and the last minute preparations that need to be made before the initiates arrive I am sure that everyone is plenty busy.

It’s okay though, I’m used to it.

 

I read until my dad comes home in the late evening, finishing up a novel that I wasn’t actually very interested and would never read again even if I would get the chance too. I hear the front door shut faintly and finish up the last paragraph of the book before getting up and opening my bedroom door. From the balcony that overlooks the living room I can see him pacing back and forth, on the phone.

“She’s going to be so disappointed; you know that, right?” He runs is hand though his hair while the other person talks. “You know I love you and she loves you too, but that doesn’t mean she’s not going to be upset. I mean you’re working through the last night we may ever get with her.” He rolls his eyes at the person on the other line’s response and I realize who he’s talking to immediately. “I hardly doubt that matters, she’ll just want to see you. Send Jeanine, Gwen, and the twins my love. Bye, Dear.” He hangs up and turns, seeing me looking down.

He sighs and then smiles feebly. “Hey, Mim.”

“Was that Mom?” I ask.

He frowns. “Yes. She’s, uh, not going to be able to make it for dinner. None of them are.”

I nod. I figured.

“But, uh, that’s okay. Your mother says she’ll be home later and we can do something then.”

I nod again. ‘ _Later’_ with my mother always means in the very earliest hours of the morning so she can get a few hours of sleep before going straight back to work. I guess I’ll just see her tomorrow at the Choosing Ceremony.

“Why don’t you take a seat on the couch and you can tell me about your day while I get started on dinner.”

I walk downstairs and sit on the long couch. I know that I’m doing a poor job of masking my disappointment, I did a poor job of masking it when Melanie had to leave. I’ve come to expect it, but it still stings every time it happens. I can tell that my dad feels bad about it, and that he feels like he has to make it up to me. My dad is almost always doing extra things for me when my mother can’t be around. I think that he thinks that I don’t understand, but I do. I know that she’s busy; I know my whole family’s busy just like I know that he makes a conscious effort to take off early so I’m not alone into the late hours of the night but my mom is the faction representative and she doesn’t have that luxury. Having to work all the time is basically in her job description and I know that.

I still miss her though.

“How did the test go?” my father asks from the kitchen.

“The test was fine.”

“Melanie said there was some sort of malfunction with a few different ones.”

“Yeah, she was telling me about that this afternoon. Some sort of system failure in which the results had to be entered manually.”

“Happens pretty much every year,” my father says. “You’d think with how far we’ve come in these past few decades we’d have better testing equipment.” He glances back at me and chuckles. “Don’t tell Jeanine I said that.”

I laugh. “I’ll be sure to do exactly that.”

A long time ago, Jeanine worked on the team that developed the serum that they use for the Aptitude Test today, she and another scientist perfected it and that was the achievement that helped get her into office. Its why she’s so popular; everyone knows what a genius she is and everyone is very aware of how much she has done for this city.

At the same time, my mother was already the faction representative. She got elected when she was twenty, the youngest ever, after her predecessor and mentor died suddenly of some sort of allergic reaction. She was poised to take over for him anyways and that process just got expedited after his sudden death. She has been serving on the council for the vast majority of her adult life and has held office for the second longest duration of time out of the ten council members. The only one who’s been serving longer than she has is the Dauntless leader.

“Did anything interesting happen at work today?” I ask.

“Not in the slightest. I mean unless you want to hear about the seating arrangements for the Choosing Ceremony as well as the truly ungodly amount of meetings that it takes just to settle a minuscule component of our,” he sighs and turns to look at me, an insincere and saccharine grin on his face. “endless dispute with Abnegation.”

“Not really.”

“So, big day tomorrow.”

“Really big day,” I agree.

“Have you given any thought to your choice?”

“Tons.”

“And? How’s that going?”

“Just fine.” I leave out all of the parts about freaking out because I’m something rare and dangerous and I don’t really belong anywhere. “What was choosing like for you, Dad?”

“Oh. Well, it was never much of a choice,” he says. “I always knew what I wanted.” I’ve heard people tell stories about choosing their faction before with wistfulness for their youth. But my father just sounds bitter about it; I don’t know why, he was born Erudite, there shouldn’t have been any bad blood there.

“Were you excited?”

“Sure,” he says, though his voice suggests otherwise. “Always exciting, getting to start your life and whatnot. You really figure out who you truly are.”

We’re silent for a minute before I speak up again. “Dad.”

“Yes, Sweetheart?”

“Why did you choose Erudite?”

_Give me a reason to stay_ , I think. _Give me a reason that doesn’t involve the family_. Tell me why you didn’t leave.

He is silent for a long time before he says, “Because it was the only place that I ever wanted to be. I knew – I knew my friends, and my family, and I knew myself, and Erudite was the only place I felt like I belonged.”

“You already knew Mom back then, right?”

“Mhm. Your mother, Jeanine, and I were good friends for quite some time before our choosing.”

“So you stayed for her? – and, uh, the rest of your friends?”

“I stayed for me.” And he sounds so sure of himself when he says it; sure of himself in a way that I don’t know how to be. He knew himself, and he knew what he wanted, and he knew where he wanted to be. Everything that he did, he did for himself. For him, there was never any other way to go.

“Mimette, I want you to stay. But if that’s not what you want, then you should follow your heart.”

“Like Mark and Minerva did.”

His brow furrows slightly, “Right.”

It doesn’t take a Candor to tell that he’s being insincere. Neither of my parents really approve of Mark and Minerva’s choices, though they will never say so aloud.

“What about Mom?” I ask. “Why did she stay?”

He shrugs, “I think she knew what she wanted out of life too. She was born into a life very much like yours and she was very determined to be a certain way. I honestly don’t know, Mimette, you’ll have to ask her.”

I wish that I were like my parents, I wish that there were never any other way for me to be. I wish it were easy for me to stay, to look around and know that Erudite is all that I have ever wanted.

“What was your Choosing Ceremony like, Dad?”

“Well, I was a little older than you because that was just how things were back then. Why they changed it, I’ll never understand.” He rolls his eyes. “But I digress. It wasn’t so different; same ceremony, different names. Nothing exciting.  But the look on his face suggests something else, a tense smile like it was interesting.

I shrug. “You should tell me anyways. I don’t really have anything else to talk about.”

“Well, didn’t you see your sister today? How was that?”

I scoff, “Oh yeah, I saw her for all of five minutes before she had to rush off back to work.”

“Don’t be like that,” he says. “How was she while you saw her?”

“Fine, I guess. I mean, she seemed busy, but she always is.”

“Mimette,” my father says. “You know that your sister loves you very much, right? Your mother does too; they’re just busy. Everyone is busy; that’s just how life in Erudite is.”

“I know.”

It’s part of the reason I don’t want to stay. I’ve seen pretty much everyone I know get completely absorbed by their work. It consumes them and it sucks for everyone else in their life. I don’t want that; I don’t want to do that to other people and I don’t want to do that to myself. I’ve never been afraid of hard work; but I’m a little uncomfortable with Erudite’s insane workload. It doesn’t seem like something even the most talented people could handle, even though they do, and it certainly doesn’t seem like something I could handle. I don’t have that kind of resolve that people like Eliza and Kira do. Just another thing that makes me glaringly not Erudite.

“By the way,” I add, “she was wondering if you had the number of Damascus’ floristry.”

My father visibly cringes. “Uhm…Nope. No, I don’t think I do.” His voice is strangely high and tense. I’d expected him to be annoyed, not…whatever he is right now. He lets out an uncharacteristically nervous laugh. “ _Anyways_ , how are your friends doing?” he asks. “Cassandra and Elizabeth, did their tests go well?”

I accept the change of subject and say, “Yeah, I think so.” I don’t tell him about how Casey plans to leave and how I know that I could follow her and Mark and that is a viable future for me. I could, but I’m not sure if I could ever thrive there. I don’t tell him how I know that Eliza will fit better in Erudite better than I ever could and how I wish that I were like her. I wish that I could be Erudite enough.

“That’s good. You girls must be very excited.”

“Mhm.” Maybe I’d be more excited if I didn’t know for a fact that Casey was going to leave me; that if I stay I will always have Kira and Eliza but I might never belong the way that they do and I’m not sure how to keep that from bothering me. When I was younger I just assumed that those roles were something that people grew into, that by the time my Choosing Ceremony rolled around I would be as mature, and intelligent, and elegant as the rest of my Erudite family. But here I am a day away and I don’t feel like any of that; I just feel like me. My father scoops the pasta he was making onto two plates and sets them on the table before returning to the kitchen to clean up before we sit down.

“I know that you’re nervous,” he says. “But I promise this is nothing to worry about. It’s the start of the rest of your life, it’s a happy occasion.”

I nod.

“It can be...difficult to change and to lose people. They say that one in ten people transfer out of Erudite every year. But some people just aren’t cut out for it.” There’s that thousand-mile stare again, like he’s going back to some bad memory. “It’s not...not nearly as hard as you think it is.”

I’m not sure if he’s right about that. My father is Erudite, so it comes naturally to him. But for me it all seems insurmountable at times. It feels like I would be better off leaving to do something else, to go somewhere where I have a better chance at making it through. I know just how difficult Erudite can be; just how absolutely horrific certain facets of being here can be and a small part of me can even understand why people in other factions might hate us. From the outside looking in, we must look awful to some people. For the Abnegation, who live dull and simple lives in their silence and complacency, we must look horrible. It’s no secret that they find everything that we do, the way that we live, offensive on the deepest level. We are in direct contrast to everything that they believe in. I will never be Abnegation, that I know for sure. And I’ll never be Candor, so that’s two out. But I think about Amity and I think about Dauntless and to an extent they both seem feasible. If I were to work hard enough, maybe I’d be able to shape myself into what they are.

I get up from the couch and pick up my plate. “Dad, I think I’m just going to eat in my room. I – I have a lot to think about.”

He looks up and smiles softly. “Okay, Mim. I understand. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I start up the stairs and leave him to eat alone and I do feel sort of bad about that, but we both know that I really do have a lot to think about. My entire life depends on the choice that I make tonight.

No pressure or anything.

I guess what it really boils down to is what I want out of life. More than anything I want to live up to my family’s legacy. I want to be as great as they are. I want to do something important, I want to be important. If I stay, I would never stop working; I would never be able to. I could throw myself into my work and let everything else become background noise. I could become well respected in my field, I could discover something important. I might just be able to do some real good. There’s so much that I want to do and I’m not sure how to do any of it.

I could stay and I could always have my family close to me. I would always have my parents and the twins and everyone connected to them. I would get to keep almost all the people that I care about. I would get to keep everyone but Casey.

Or I could follow her to Amity. I could spend all of my days in the fields with people that are always smiling. We could be happy together. Someday the time that I would have Mark around would be greater than the time that he was gone. I would get to keep my first friend, and get my eldest brother back. I would never stop smiling; I would never be unhappy.

Or I could be Dauntless. I would have none of the security or the familiarity, but all of the adventure. I could decide for myself and by myself what sort of person I am and who I want to be. I would never have to worry about my family’s expectations ever again because the choice alone would defy everything that everyone thought I would be. I could be strong, and bold, and loud. Dauntless have no sense of propriety or elegance and there is something amazing in that. Something awe-inspiring that draws me to them just a little bit. It would be a place of my own where I could establish myself without ever being in my family’s shadow.

I wonder if this is how Mark and Minerva felt when they decided to leave. They got to stake a claim to Amity and Candor respectively and no one ever associated them with who they were related to. If I go to Dauntless I could do the same.

But then I would never have those ties to my friends and family. I would grow apart from my friends and eventually lose them entirely, the time and the distance between us would eventually grow too large for any of us to hold onto anything but nostalgia. I might never see them again. I might even begin to forget them after a while.

If I become Amity I would lose all of the potential that I have to do something really amazing. Amity aren’t exactly known for their complexity. Short of becoming a faction leader there is nothing that I as an individual could do for Amity or for Chicago. I might be losing my chance at greatness. I like and respect Amity and the people there; I think that there is a lot of strength in being so gentle and they play a great role in everyone’s prosperity. We would not survive without them. But they’re not exactly what I want. I mean, I see how I could choose there and I know that in some ways I could be happy. But I’m not sure if I could ever really be satisfied there, if I could live my life without ever looking back and wondering what might have been if I wasn’t so afraid to try something.

If I stay, I might fail. It’s as simple as that, I might wash out of initiation entirely or I might just never get out of my family’s shadow. I could never amount to anything and simply be a disappointment. I could just as easily do exactly what I aim to and lose myself entirely in the process. I could lose all of my friends and everything that I care about and simply let my work become my entire life. I could do something really important and lose everything in the process. Worst of all, I’m not sure if that isn’t worth it.

If I go to Dauntless I would be alone. I would know nothing and no one and I could still fail. Hardly anyone transfers to Dauntless because the chance of getting chewed up and spit out into factionlessness is so high. It’s not for the faint of heart, though I suppose that is the point. I want to imagine that it’s all thrill and fun, it looks like it’s so much fun. Every Dauntless I’ve ever seen always looks so happy, like their whole life is an adventure. Part of me very desperately wants to feel that way, wants to feel free and reckless. It should all send me running, it should grate against everything I know and it does, but it doesn’t irritate me and it certainly doesn’t scare me. It fascinates me far more than it probably should. Fantasies are all well and good, but I’m supposed to be the person that my family wants me to be, and I do think that I have the best chance of doing that in Erudite. I want to be like my family, I want to be like my mother and to do that I have to stay Erudite. That is the highest score on my aptitude test and therefore it should come the most naturally to me. It is who I am. It has to be.

 

_September 1 st, Year 499_

_Tomorrow is the Choosing Ceremony and this year I will be a part of it. It’s the day that every kid in the city waits for with great excitement. It’s the day that we become adults. But me, well I’m terrified. I’ve never been totally sure of myself or my footing in Erudite, I always thought that I might just grow into it eventually. But clearly that hasn’t happened. A few years ago, I started wondering if I just wasn’t meant for Erudite; if maybe I belonged in Amity or Candor like Mark and Minerva did. It fascinated me as much as it terrified me. I knew even then that to be either of those things I would have to leave behind everything that I know. I would have to give it all up and hope that I’m making the right decision. I never really stopped thinking about that, but as my Choosing Day drew closer I just started pretending like nothing was wrong. I was hoping that the Aptitude Test would tell me how to decide, that it would clear away the fog and show me what had always been right in front of me this whole time; who I truly am._

_Instead it only confused me more._

_Apparently, I’m some sort of rare freak that can fit into more place than one and just writing this out could get me into some serious trouble. My test administrator never really told me what sort of trouble beyond ‘don’t tell anyone ever’. I don’t ever want to find out exactly what those consequences might be. The test told me that, theoretically, I could suit Erudite, or Amity, or Dauntless._

_I had never even considered that Dauntless could be a possibility. I had hardly thought about them at all except for the tiny glimmers of admiration I keep to myself. I mean, who doesn’t admire them? They always look so happy, so free; they’re like a daredevil version of the Amity – and I’m sure that any Dauntless would punch me for saying so, but it’s true. It’s just that, the way they are was always sort of alluring to me; I guess I’ve always sort of fantasized about what it might be like to never be bound by things like propriety or convention. If I thought I could be that then I guess I might try to, but as much as I like to imagine it I don’t think I could ever be like that. I don’t think that I am the sort of person who could ever fit among them._

_Except, according to the Aptitude Test, I am._

_I’ve never been especially superstitious; it’s really hard to be in Erudite, which places importance on things that can be observed by at least one of the five senses and theories that can be tested over everything else. No one really believes in fate, or soulmates, or destiny, but I hear them used in hyperbole. I’ve heard enough about fate and destiny that even though I don’t really believe in it, I can still think about it and sometimes I wonder if there really is something like it, if all of our choices are decided for us before we’re even alive and there’s nothing we can do to change it. Though, I guess that’s a little bit bleak; I guess that really takes all of the control away from each and every individual and none of us really have any choice in anything. So maybe being fated for anything isn’t really a good thing._

_I have a choice tomorrow. They will call my name and I will choose my faction and that will be the rest of my life right there, that will become my path. Whether or not I manage to actually make it wherever I choose is something else all on its own. I decide the way that I want my entire life tomorrow, and I’m terrified._

_It should be easy; the answer should obviously be Erudite. I know this place like the back of my hand, I’ll have at least one friend here for sure and more than half my family. I could do something really amazing here and I can’t just let that go to waste. I’m smart; I like learning and I’ve never been afraid of hard work. I know how to act and so many people already like me. If I make it through initiation then it should be very easy for me to climb to the top. I’ve put very little thought into what I really want to do with my life – I always thought that I should wait until I knew where I was going to choose to decide the career I wanted to pursue – but I have always been fascinated by the faction council. I guess that’s one of the side effects of being the daughter of the Erudite rep and a council liaison. I think the work that the leaders and the people that work at the Hub do is interesting and important. I know that it can be vicious, and petty, that the reality of working on or for the council is often hard, boring, and thankless. I know that there’s a million rules to it that no one ever teaches you and one misstep can ruin you._

_But still, I want to be there._

_It’s lofty, and it’s incredibly ambitious, but that’s part of who I am and it’s what most of my family does. I’ve never thought that I’m very arrogant, but I really do think that I can do it. Like I said, I have never been afraid of hard work. That career is something that I could do anywhere, it’s all a matter of how easy the climb will be. I think that every faction presents its own unique challenges, especially Erudite, if I stay I will be subjected to the especially cruel and brutal competition and the mad grab for attention and the power that comes with that attention that every initiate who doesn’t want to be lost in the pack has to make. I’ll have to be prepared to fight tooth and nail for everything and I’ll have to be prepared to fail. I have a bit of a leg up because I already know how Erudite’s initiation works. But the thing that Michael told me about it that always stuck with me was that no matter what it will make you feel stupid and like you don’t know anything and can’t form an argument, because you are, and you don’t, and you can’t. Erudite bleeds the weak ones dry and that’s why there’s a twenty-five percent failure rate. Even some of the ones that manage to make it through suddenly find themselves swept away, unable to keep their heads above water or are eaten alive. Loyalty can either mean absolutely everything or absolutely nothing to people and sometimes that will change the moment they have the opportunity to get ahead. It’s vicious, and I don’t love it, it terrifies me. The twins never seemed bothered by it, but I guess they were always very confident in their abilities. I don’t know how to be ruthless, that’s not me. If nothing else, I am very sure of that. I just want to be happy in life and I want to make other people happy; I want to be able to do some good._

_I guess that’s the Amity in me._

_I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. I don’t know how I can possibly choose between my family and everything that I know and…something else? Something that might fulfill me in a way that Erudite couldn’t? Something that makes me happier than I am here? I don’t know; I don’t know why I would ever even consider leaving, but I still do. I don’t want to leave and I don’t want to stay and I can’t really think of a good and definitive reason for either. I can think of certain advantages and disadvantages to both possibilities, but neither are exactly something huge enough to make my decision even though some things should be. I should stay for my family, I should stay for my friends, I should stay for my future and to be the person that my family has always wanted me to be, the person that I have always wanted to be. I should go because I’m not really happy here, I should go because I can’t stop thinking about what it would like to be anywhere but here, I should go because I crave a life that no one can stake a claim to but me, I should go because there’s a sliver of a chance that I might be able to survive without everything I’ve ever known and part of me wants to take that chance._

_I just want to belong somewhere. I’ve always felt a little too out of place in Erudite, a little too much like I was playing a part that I was trained to fit into rather than being the person that I am. Erudite is in my blood, it is all that I have ever been taught to be. Everything my parents taught me to be was under the assumption that I would be Erudite and a really incredible one at that. They tried to show me the reality of being powerful in Erudite as best they could and I have met the most powerful people in Erudite and I have grown up around wealth and prosperity. I can name every department head and most of their family members. The department heads and those who work for the Faction Council are among the most powerful in Erudite, the ones with all of the luxury and glory. I have been meeting them since I was very young and I have been taught how to be the perfect daughter. But I’m not sure how much of who I am is predisposition, a part of my personality, and how much of it has been ingrained into me because that’s just how I’m supposed to be. I know how to be perfect, I was raised to be perfect. But can I keep this up my whole life? Will it eventually become natural or will I always feel out of place in my own faction?_

_But if I leave, if I become Dauntless and forgo everything that I know for a wild kind of freedom that I’ve never really experienced, then I would be the first in my family to do so. I would have no one to help or guide me, I would be totally alone and I wouldn’t have any connection to anything or anyone from Erudite. Dauntless and Erudite don’t not get along, but Erudite does sort of have a superiority thing over them. I guess it’s just that we’re a little more elegant and refined then they are. I know that if I left my family would never approve; I know what they think of the Dauntless. But if faction before blood is to be believed, I guess it doesn’t matter what they think of my choice._

_Except that it matters to me. I love them very, very much and I want them to be proud of me. I’m growing up, but in a lot of ways I’m still just a child looking for attention and approval._

_UGH! I don’t even want to think about this anymore, it’s kind of giving me a headache. I just wanted things to be normal; I just wanted to know what I was supposed to do and then do it. It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated, I wasn’t supposed to not fit anywhere. Maybe I should just choose Erudite because I know it best, because it would be easy to blend in and pretend like I’m normal and pretend like everything’s fine forever. I could live a long and happy life here; I could achieve the life that my siblings have if I really tried hard enough. Or I could try to live a life apart from everyone and everything and hope that it all works out for me. I could take a chance and hope that I don’t crash and burn. It might be good for me, it might even be great._

 

I spend the rest of me evening reading and eating. I only fall asleep because I don’t have anything better to do, and I’d like to delay the next morning as long as I can.

 

“Mimette,” someone’s voice breaks through my dream. “Mimette, Sweetheart, wake up. Everyone’s waiting downstairs.”

I open my eyes and blink a few times before rolling over. My mother is standing over me, looking like she either just came from work or is just about to leave.

“Come on, the others are downstairs.” She turns, beckoning for me to follow.

Confused, I sit up and after a moment of trying to wake up I stand up and follow my mother downstairs. Before I leave I take a quick glance at my clock, it’s only a little past three in the morning.

I plod downstairs after my mother, squinting in the bright light but my eyes pop open at what I find waiting for me in the living room.

“Surprise,” Melanie says, grinning.

“Wh-what-” I yawn. “What are you all doing here?”

“We felt bad about missing dinner,” my mother says. “So we figured we’d make it up to you the moment all of us could.”

They all look exhausted, all except Maureen having just come off of what was most likely a twenty-one-hour day with only tiny moments of reprieve and here they all are like they’re not all totally wiped. They all came; Gwendolyn and Melanie are sharing the love seat on the far side of the living room, Michael is sitting on the arm of Maureen’s chair, and Jeanine sits on the couch. My mother joins her there. In the kitchen, my dad is pouring mugs of coffee, still in his pajamas with sleep in his eyes and his hair curling up at weird angles.

“I can’t believe you all did this,” I say, tired but thrilled with a genuine smile tugging at my lips.

“Anything for our little sister,” Michael says, smiling at me.

I kneel on the floor in front of the coffee table and my dad sets a mug in front of me on a coaster before moving to the couch and curling up next to my mother, who puts her arm around his shoulders.

“So, Mimi,” Jeanine says, she’s the only one that calls me that. Everyone else just calls me Mim or Mimette. She’s had that nickname for me ever since I was a kid. “Do you think you’ve come to a decision?”

I look up from my coffee at her, and then at everyone else. They all stare at me sort of expectantly and I know the answer they all want, the answer that I want to give them.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Of course I do. Wasn’t exactly that hard of a choice.”

I wish that that were true; I wish it were true more than they could ever know. I know exactly what sort of person they want me to be and I wish with all my heart that I could give that to them. I wish that I could just definitively say that I’m Erudite, that I am their perfect daughter, their perfect sister, that I’m someone they can really be proud of.

“And that choice would be?” Michael says.

“Erudite, obviously.” The lie almost physically pains me, it makes my chest contract in a weird way as guilt and fear twist together inside of me. It kind of sounds right; I can just get up tomorrow and get ready and then choose Erudite and come right back to the faction I’ve always known. No one would ever have to know that there was something different about me. Or I could leave, and they would all know that I lied to them.

But the way that they all smile almost makes it all worth it, and it makes me want to stay. I love my family, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. Not even my own adventure.

Right?

We talk for a while, a small lively little gathering in the dead of night. I’ve heard of the image that some of my family members project, I’ve even seen it sometimes. But when they’re home, it’s hard to ever think of them like that. It’s difficult to ever see Gwendolyn as cold and silent, always watching and always scowling when she has the loudest laugh among us and one of the softest, most genuine smiles I’ve ever seen. She looks gentle and kind, and it’s a wonder how people don’t see it. Michael likes to present a similar persona; all apathy, and rolling eyes, and icy professionalism; but he laughs like Gwendolyn, and banters easily with Melanie, and looks at Maureen with so much affection and adoration. My family is so warm, and kind, and full of life and I don’t want to leave them. I want to be the person they want me to be; I want to make them proud.

 

I don’t even remember falling back asleep. What I do remember is my mother guiding me upstairs and putting me back to bed. She pressed a kiss to my forehead and then left me to my rest.


	5. Spontaneous Combustion

When I wake up, everyone is gone but my father. He reads the news on his tablet while sipping his coffee.

“Where’s mom?” I ask and follow it up with a yawn.

“She had some things to take care of before the ceremony starts, we’ll see her there though.”

I look back at the living room, going back to late last night or early this morning maybe. I love my family dearly; if I stay, it will be in part for them.

I love Erudite of course, but I don't think I would be half as attached to it if I didn’t have such a fantastic family. I know that not everyone is lucky like me. Casey and Eliza aren’t lucky like me. I have a family that loves me, that would be thrilled to see me remain, that doesn’t want to lose me in the way that we lost Mark and Minerva. Of course we still love them, and sometimes we even see them; but in a lot of ways they really are gone. I miss them more than I can really describe. It’s gotten better with time, the pangs of their absence don’t get to me nearly as much as they used to. But I still hate grappling with the idea that they’re _gone_ , that they chose to leave. I begrudge them nothing, I can’t, but it doesn’t make me miss them any less. It doesn’t mean that they didn’t still leave us.

And can I subject my family and friends to that same absence; the gaping wound that doesn’t so much heal over as it gets stitched shut? The twins, and my parents, and my Erudite cousins who have already dealt with losing two of my siblings. Can I do that to them?

What would I even be gaining if I did?

I’ve already decided that I will never be Candor. That was easy; I lie far too much and my secret is far too dangerous for me to ever join my eldest sister in her faction. But Amity…Amity is a different story. I could fit in Amity; I could be very happy there. Happy and without a care in the world. Casey and I would always be together, I would have my brother close to me in a way that he wasn’t when we were kids, and I’d always be surrounded by my cousins whom. We loved each other very much but I was very little, I was only seven when he left, we never really did get to spend a whole lot of quality time together.

I don’t even really want to think about Dauntless. I want it to go back to being a non-option because now things are even more confusing. It’s like the very suggestion awakened something in me that I’ve been suppressing for years; like I haven’t been watching the Dauntless with curiosity, but with admiration, with the desire to be just like them. My family and my faction disapprove of the Dauntless enough that it didn’t even cross my mind that I might be like them because I was trying so hard to be the perfect daughter. I suddenly want it; I want to be like them, I want to be among them. I want to be Dauntless so badly that it scares me. It scares me because I love Erudite and I know that I’d be among my friends and family, and it would be the best choice for my future. But I also know that my parents wouldn’t begrudge me transferring to Amity too terribly. They dealt with it once already. But Dauntless is something else entirely; Dauntless is unknown, and dangerous, and something that I have been taught to never be. I’m too refined to ever be quite so boisterous and forget about all of those insane stunts. Melanie always said that the only good things to ever come out of Dauntless were their dancers and Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn always frowns when she says that because she hates being associated with the Dauntless in any way. Five years of living in Erudite, where she so clearly belongs, has turned her against her birth faction and she finds the idea that she may still be like them in any way very deeply insulting. Victoria doesn’t ever speak of her Dauntless roots either, but when she left it wasn’t her choice; when she left it wasn’t on happy terms. She had to leave Dauntless because she was suddenly and horribly orphaned and the only person willing to take her was Gwendolyn. She shrinks away at the very mention of her former home and she doesn’t act very Dauntless. In my experience, Dauntless children are loud and rowdy; but Victoria is as quiet and reserved as her older sister, though she smiles just a little more. According to Melanie, the reason she was allowed to live here with Gwendolyn is because she was young enough when it happened that her personality could still be shaped and reshaped in a way that an adult’s or even a teenager’s can’t. And from the outside looking in, ignoring her last name, you would never know that she wasn’t born Erudite.

There’s one other person I know associated with the Dauntless, but she left us to be there not the other way around. Pandora Steele, Damascus’ daughter; I’ve always sort of wondered what became of her.

Dauntless is everything I’ve never known really. This shadowy place that spit out my sisters-in-law and best friend, and took away my other pseudo-sister. It terrifies and enchants me, even if every sensible bone in my body screams that entertaining thoughts like these are a terrible idea.

My dad and I relax around the house until two thirty and, honestly, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my last day in this house. I just wish that my mom was here too.

I go back up to my room to start getting ready and suddenly the anxiety hits me again. I’m really choosing today. This is really happening. Whether I stay or go, I am never going to sleep in this room again. I’m not a child anymore; I become an adult today and I have never been more scared in my life.

I don’t take much. I leave my phone on my bed, I’ll either retrieve it when I come back to Erudite or I won’t. The cobalt blazer I decide to wear has an interior pocket just large enough to fit my journal and so I take that, because it will be the only thing that I can never replace. I keep my outfit and my makeup simple and I spend the last few minutes before we have to leave staring in the mirror. These are my last few moments as a child, my last few moments before my life changes forever. This evening Casey will be gone, Kira will be here, and I could go either way. I always thought that I would have it all figured out by now, that I would just _know_.

I don’t know, obviously; I don’t know and I don’t think I will know until I’m staring my choice in the face. There’s so many reasons to stay, and so many reasons to go, so many reasons to choose Amity or to choose Dauntless. Either way, tonight I will be a different person. I will either have my whole family behind me (sans Mark and Minerva), only Casey and Mark, or no one at all. And there isn’t a single thing that makes one choice stick out as more right than the others.

Of course I know that if I asked someone then the answer would vary. If I asked my parents, the twins, or Jeanine, they would say that Erudite is the correct choice because I have such a bright future here. Gwendolyn would tell me to stay because I fit so well. Maureen would tell me to stay because there’s nothing fun about transferring, and because there’s so much for me here. Eliza would say Erudite too, but more because it’s my home; it’s _our_ home. Mark and Minerva, I think, would say that my own happiness and satisfaction are far more important than sticking to what I know; that sometimes people just have to leave and if there’s even a sliver of me that thinks I might be one of those people then I probably am. Casey would tell me to make my choice for myself, whatever that may be; not because it’s what my family wants, or because I’m afraid of being out of my depth, or even because I want to be with her, because at the end of the day _I_ have to live with my decision. Kira would tell me to follow my heart, not my head, to lean into the gravity that I feel most strongly and it doesn’t matter where that is. My cousins – my dozen and a half cousins – would all give different reasons but at the end of the day their suggestions would be basically the same, Erudite obviously or Amity if I absolutely must because our roots as a family are so important and always have been; we all love Minerva, but at the end of the day she really is the odd one out.

Everyone I know, or at least what I know of everyone, has made it seem like they always have known what they wanted. Their choices were clear; my friends’ choices are clear, I remember my siblings’ choosing days well and I don’t remember them being afraid. Because Michael and Melanie always knew themselves, and Minerva never cared what anyone thought, and Mark was always stronger than he seemed at a glance. I’m not like that; I don’t know, I do care what people think of me and I especially care about what my family thinks of me, and I don’t know how to be strong.

I’m afraid of never being happy no matter where I end up, that I’ll always be stuck wishing for more – for something different. In Erudite life is a never ending blur of progress and productivity set to the tempo of a thousand pairs of heels and dress shoes walking through their daily routine. In Amity life is peaceful but plain, laughter fills the fresh air and everyone has a job to do; everyone is always smiling, always happy and the peace (from what I know of the weekends I’ve spent up there, sleeping on a cot on my cousins’ bedroom floors) is something like bliss. And Dauntless, Dauntless is…I don’t know. I’ve never been there, hell, I’ve never even _seen_ their compound. Kira won’t take my friends and I anywhere near it, says that non-members aren’t even allowed to _be_ around the compound and we’d get in way more trouble being with her than she would with us. But from what I’ve seen of its members, nothing is ever the same for long and life is never boring. In fact, I would wager that an unwritten part of being Dauntless is to never be boring or let your life be boring.

Even if, in theory, I do decide to leave I’m still caught between Amity and Dauntless and neither one outweighs the other in any significant way. One is where I will spend the rest of my life by my best friend’s side, always smiling, always happy; and the other is where I will either become the person that I am meant to be without my friends and family, or I will crash and burn, and there is absolutely no in between. I have a much higher chance of failing Dauntless initiation and if we’re talking logic and statistics, then I should obviously go for Amity because that will prevent me becoming factionless. But ignoring logic entirely, I can’t deny that there is a part of me that very desperately wants to be Dauntless. Dauntless just calls to me and I know that I could, theoretically, lean into those feeling and take my chances. But what happens if I fail? What happens when my family is inevitably disappointed by my choice? I won’t go as far to say that I _need_ their approval, but it’s certainly nice to know that your parents are proud of what you’ve decided to do with your life. As for my failure, well, I won’t pretend like I’m exactly Dauntless material. I’m not especially small or scrawny, and I’m not afraid of hard work, but that’s about all I have going for me. I have a very long way to go if I ever want to be like the people that I’ve admired for so long.

“Mimette,” my father calls from downstairs. “Come on, let’s go.”

I secure my hair with one more bobby pin and smooth my skirt before heading out.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks when I reach the bottom of the stairs.

I nod, “Just fine.”

“Nervous?” He gives me a sympathetic look.

“Terrified,” I say with a feeble smile.

We are silent throughout the car ride over, though my dad looks like he wants to say something. I am far too nervous to make conversation and all I want to do is just go home. I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to go anywhere, and I’m so afraid that I will make the wrong choice. I cannot make the wrong choice, my life depends on it. I will not – cannot – be factionless; cast out from society because they weren’t able to make it in their faction, weren’t able to fit in. The thought terrifies me.

Factionlessness tends to be a vicious cycle; the city does what it can for the factionless children, sends them to school, sends them to Amity when they can, Abnegation tries their best but people always slip through the cracks. And the worst part is that most children born factionless will often remain factionless; some are able to make it through an initiation and become a member, but some don’t, and some are so jaded and misguided that they think it would be better to be factionless like their parents even though they know that it damns them to poverty.

I cannot be like them. I have to have a future; I have my entire life ahead of me. I cannot fail. I cannot even run the risk of failure.

Or can I?

We arrive at the Hub and I wish that I could just stay in the car. I am only more apprehensive the closer get. Still, I open my door and get out, shivering in the September wind. The sky has clouded over, making the day look as dark and ominous as it feels. I don’t know how I can do this; I don’t know how anyone can do this. For so many people the choice is easy; for all of my friends the choice will be easy. For me, it might just be the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. Once I make my choice it will stick for the rest of my days. I probably should have come to a decision before now, I’m sure everyone else already has. Everyone but Casey and Eliza, who have known exactly what they would do for years now. Eliza will always be Erudite and Casey will always choose Amity, there is no keeping them both and theoretically I could stay with either.

I stare blankly ahead as we ascend the steps to the building, trying to look as icily professional as my fellow Erudite. I clasp my hands together in front of me so that they don’t tremble. My nerves must be coming off me in waves anyways. I am so afraid and there is no way that it doesn’t show.

We pack into an elevator with a collection of Amity and Candor, not a Dauntless in sight. The train must be running late today or something.

I still want to run. I want to never have to choose. Maybe I should just choose Erudite so that I can stick to what I’m familiar with. It is what I know and it’s what I’m good at. I could thrive here, I know that I could. But it still doesn’t really feel right.

The ceremony is held on the twentieth floor and it always takes my breath away every time I see it. Everyone comes to Choosing Ceremony, it’s not mandatory, but people show up anyways. I am always blown away by the sheer amount of people, and all of the color and life in one place. Every faction has its own section of seats and so it creates these huge swaths of color and it’s so beautiful. I look around to see if I can spot my siblings, who I know are all here. The twins came to support me, Mark and Minerva came because they’re part of their factions’ leadership and they have to – but also to support me. But I don’t see any of them anywhere. I do see my mother though; she is descending the stairs in between Erudite and Candor sections with Jeanine at her side. I point her out to my father and we begin to weave through the crowd until we’re just behind an Abnegation family, who stop in front of the stairs as my mother and Jeanine reach the bottom.

“Pardon me,” my father says, ducking around them and pulling me along with him. We stand with my mother, looking down at the four Abnegation.

“Hello, Jeanine,’ the older man says. He nods at my parents, “Carolina. John.”

“Good morning, Andrew,” Jeanine says.

After a moment I recognize the man as Andrew Prior, Abnegation’s representative. Out of everyone on the council, my mother and Jeanine hate him the most.

The short girl with dark blonde hair, presumably his daughter, stares up at us with curious eyes.

“How’s Marcus holding up?” Jeanine asks.

Marcus Eaton is Abnegation’s leader and chairman of the Faction Council. I don’t know much about him as a person, but I think that I’ve overheard my parents speaking about him with Lucy Sharp, one of Erudite’s reporters who most often covers politics. She’s also infamous for dragging people’s names through the mud. She’s written pieces about Abnegation’s corruption at large, but as of late has taken to attacking their leaders’ character directly more or less.

Andrew shrugs slightly, “As well as can be expected.”

“We need to find out who’s behind these rumors,” Jeanine says.

Of course, I think that everyone already knows who’s behind them. Lucy reports on them most often, with many of her pieces co-written by Gordon Diarmond. Though, they defend themselves saying that they didn’t create the news, they only report on it.

“I think we all know who it is,” the older Abnegation woman says.

I almost laugh, but press my lips together and look away instead. My parents glance at each other wearing matching frowns.

“If it’s someone from Erudite,” Jeanine says, “I promise that I’ll find out who.”

Everyone already knows who it is both inside and outside of Erudite, but it’s kind of an unspoken rule that no one ever speaks of it. No one’s exactly eager to drag Lucy down because she’s a department head and that would be bad and difficult to prove. The powerful people in Erudite hold all the cards, and Lucy is certainly powerful.

“And these are your children,” Jeanine changes the subject. “I don’t think I knew they were choosing today.” She looks at the boy, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Caleb,” he responds quickly with a starstruck look on his face. A second passes before he remembers himself and extends his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.

“Jeanine Matthews.”

“Carolina Captor-Malachite, and this is my husband John.”

“Erudite’s lead council liaison,” my father says.

“And you are?” Jeanine says to the girl.

She stays silent as her brother nudges her.

“This is Beatrice,” Caleb finally says with an awkward smile.

“And her?” Andrew gestures to me. It’s unlike Abnegation to notice and question things; how curious.

“My daughter,” my mother says, “Mimette.”

“It’s very nice to meet you all,” I say, forcing a smile. This is easy, this is easier than choosing will be.

Andrew and his wife share a look that I don’t quite understand and honestly don’t care to. My mind is elsewhere, I still haven’t decided what I will choose. It won’t be Abnegation, but I have known that all my life.

“Well,” Jeanine says, “the three of you have a big decision to make today. I’m sure your parents will support whatever choice you make.”

There’s a fine line between tolerating and supporting and I can’t say what side of the line my parents would be on should I choose to leave. I love my family, and I want to make them happy, and I want to be happy too. I know that all of that is achievable if I stay, or at least most of it is achievable if I stay. I think that I could be happy here, I think, maybe. I keep going through the reasons that I should stay and that doesn’t make them anymore compelling. But that doesn’t mean I want to leave either.

“Well it’s not supposed to be a choice,” Beatrice says, snapping me from my thoughts. “The test should have told us what to do.”

Well, it didn’t work that way for me.

“You’re still free to choose,” Jeanine says.

“But you don’t really want that.”

Her brother looks mortified, her parents are just incredulous.

“Beatrice,” Caleb hisses.

“We should really be going,” Andrew says tensely.

“No, no; it’s _fine_ ,” Jeanine says. “I want you to choose who you truly are and where you truly belong. Not on a whim, not because you wish you were someone you’re not, but because you honestly know yourself. I want you to choose wisely.” She smiles.  “and I know you all will.”

“Come on, Mimette,” my mother says. “We should go take our seats.”

“Right.” Andrew nods. “We should be going as well, the ceremony will be starting soon. Best of luck to you, Mimette.”

“Thank you.”

_I’m going to need it._

The Prior family walks away and I sit down in the second row of seats. My parents share a quick kiss as they link arms and then whisper quietly to each other for a moment. They separate again and my father sits down beside me and my mother stays standing next to Jeanine.

Jeanine puts her hand on my shoulder, looking down at me with a softness in her eyes that most people don’t see. “Mimi, you know where you belong, right?”

“Of course I do,” I say with a smile. I stand again and give her a quick hug.

It’s the same lie that I’ve been telling everyone for the past forty-eight hours. Hopefully I’ll have it figured out by the time I have to choose, I only have a few hours or so.

She kisses me on the cheek and then sits down in the front row.

My mother hugs me tightly next “Whatever you choose, I love you, Mimette, and I always will.”

“Thanks, mom. I love you too.” I sit back down.

My mother sits down beside Jeanine and then my father puts his hand on her shoulders, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek and then muttering to her.

“I know,” I overhear her whisper.

He sits up straight again and pulls me into another hug. “I love you very much, Mim. Wherever you go I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

Despite their words, I do not think that either of them expect me to leave. They didn’t expect it of Mark and Minerva, both were very painful surprises. They hardly even said goodbye.

Maybe I should say goodbye.

I twist around in my seat to see if I can catch sighs of my friends. A few rows behind us and far to the left I can see Eliza with her parents, the white bow that she always wears is the giveaway. She gives me a subtle wave and a smile that I return.

Even farther behind us I see Casey with her father. I know that she has waited for this day for a very, very long time. I should have said something more to her yesterday, if she chooses Amity and I don’t then that’s it; she’s gone. Casey and the others know how much I care for them, they always will, but I should have said more. Eleven years of friendship and all I could muster were a few words and a hug.

I scan the crowd coming in for the twins with their families, but I can’t find them. From here I can sort of see the Amity; Mark is sitting one chair from the far left end of the front row, one of his legs crossed over the other and he seems to be staring blankly at the stage. And next to us in the Candor section is Minerva already seated but, talking to someone still standing. I can’t see the Dauntless very well from where I’m sitting, only a sea of black clad bodies and none that look like Kira.

_Kira_ , who will spend her first night in Erudite tonight. I’m excited for her, this is where she’s always wanted to be and I really hope everything works out the way that she wants.

As I wait for the ceremony to start I run through how this is going to go. We will be called to the stage in reverse alphabetical order according to our last names. Eliza will be the first of my friends to choose, then Kira, then Casey, and then me. I will walk to the stage, take the knife that I am offered, slice open my hand, and drop my blood in the bowl belonging to the faction that I choose. The five large bowls already sit on the stage; smooth gray stones for Abnegation, dark soil for Amity, broken glass for Candor, clear water for Erudite, and lit coals for the Dauntless. Whatever choice I make is permanent. I cannot make a mistake. I do not know what I’m going to do.

Marcus Eaton steps onto the white stage. He clears his throat and it echoes through the speakers in the ceiling all over the room.

“Welcome,” he says. “Welcome to the Choosing Ceremony. Welcome to the day we honor the democratic philosophy of our ancestors, which tells us that everyone has the right to choose their own way in this world. Our dependents are now sixteen. They stand on the precipice of adulthood, and it is now up to them to decide what kind of people they will be.” Marcus’s voice is solemn and gives equal weight to each word. “Decades ago our ancestors realized that it is not political ideology, religious belief, race, or nationalism that is to blame for a warring world. Rather, they determined that it was the fault of human personality—of humankind’s inclination toward evil, in whatever form that is. They divided into factions that sought to eradicate those qualities they believed responsible for the world’s disarray.” What to I believe in? What am I supposed to be? “Those who blamed aggression formed Amity with their founder Ray Brighton.” The Amity have always seemed kind and loving and free. I could be among them if that is what I wanted; I could be close to Mark and Casey, spend my life among the fields, always smiling.

“Those who blamed ignorance became the Erudite with their founder Glynda Seibold.”

I could stay. With my parents, the twins, and my friends. I could let everything else fade away in my pursuit of knowledge. I could stay and be the person my family wants me to be, the person that in some ways I do want to be. I love it here, I really do.

“Those who blamed duplicity created Candor under the direction of their founder Julianna Gilbert.”

My secret is far too dangerous to live in the faction of honesty. Not only that, I don’t even like Candor. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad that I can’t join Minerva.

“Those who blamed selfishness made Abnegation with their founder Miles Arden.”

I could never be Abnegation.

“And those who blamed cowardice were the Dauntless with their founder Kerrian Price.”

Dauntless, the faction that I have always admired but never believed I could be. Dauntless, an idea that is suddenly achievable, suddenly something I can be.

“Working together, these five factions have lived in peace for many years, each contributing to a different sector of society. Abnegation has fulfilled our need for selfless leaders in government; Candor has provided us with trustworthy and sound leaders in law; Erudite has supplied us with intelligent teachers, doctors, and researchers; Amity has given us understanding counselors and caretakers; and Dauntless provides us with protection from threats both inside and outside the wall. But the reach of each faction is not limited to these areas. We give one another far more than can be adequately summarized. In our factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life. Apart from them, we would not survive. Faction before blood.”

“Faction before blood,” the crowd repeats in near unison.

How ironic I find it that we use blood to choose our faction, that it is our blood that binds us to it. But it might just be that blood we’re supposed to ignore that is the driving force behind my choice. My family, my friends who I think of as family. I love them too much to ever really leave them.

“How lucky we all are to be alive right now in such an incredible time of cooperation and peace. This day marks a happy occasion; the day on which we receive our new initiates, who will work with us toward a better society and a better world.”

A round of applause. I cannot choose, I don’t know how to choose. I don’t know what I want to be and I never have. Perhaps I should simply take the path of least resistance, Erudite. But that doesn’t sound entirely satisfying; it doesn’t entirely sound like what I want.

The first girl to choose decides on Amity, the same faction from which she came. She takes a seat in the empty front row reserved for initiates and her faction greets her with a round of applause.

The room is constantly moving, a new name and a new person choosing, a new knife and a new choice. I do not recognize them, but I have been near them all my life.

“Elizabeth Reynolds.” Marcus calls.

Eliza rises and walks to the stage as graceful and confident as ever. She is very quick about her choice and very obviously sure of it. She drops her blood in the water, and when she turns back I can see her grin. I’m happy for her, I genuinely am. She will live well here, I would very much like to continue to be her friend.

“Erudite,” Marcus announces.

Eliza has chosen. My turn will come too soon; I grow more nervous by the second.

She sits down in the front row with the other initiates and twists in her seat to look at me and flash another smile. There’s something very hopeful in her eyes, she wants me here with her and Kira; she cares about me a lot and I care about her, I don’t want to leave her.

“Kira Elysium,” is the next name that I hear, recognize, and care about.

I crane my neck to see her walking down the steps from further up. She wears a soft smile on her face, and I can see Eliza in the front row bouncing her leg anxiously. They’ve both waited a long time for this day and now I think the idea of having to wait another minute would be unbearable.

She takes the knife, and with more self-assurance than I’ve possessed in my entire life, she drops her blood in the water and walks quickly down the steps to take the seat next to Eliza. I can’t quite reach them, but she twists around in her seat to grin at me too and I try to return it despite my own nerves. Out of the corner of my eye I see my father cast us a curious glance. Kira’s presence in my life has been the biggest thing I’ve kept from my parents. I don’t even think I could really explain it now if I tried, honestly the fact that I’d kept it secret this long seems sort of trivial in retrospect.

I stop paying attention again after that, knowing that there are dozens of people between Kira and Casey, but when she is called I sit up ramrod straight.

There’s no hesitation in her face, just determined resolve. In fact, on her way down the steps she smiles at me but I can’t bring myself to return it, too sad about her leaving even if I know it’s for the best and too afraid of my own choice looming ahead of me.

I let myself think about following her, about what my life might be like in Amity. I can almost see it; the scenery, the work, Mark, Casey, and my cousins. But the illusion breaks when I try and imagine myself alongside them. Even in my own mind I seem out of place.

I don’t understand. Aren’t I supposed to be able to fit there? Isn’t that the whole damn point of my mixed test results. How did I manage that result if I can’t really be there?

None of those questions are ones I really want answered. In fact, finding out more about this almost scares me more than not knowing at all. Which I guess isn’t very Erudite of me.

Or Dauntless.

“Amity,” Marcus announces.

Casey leaves the stage with her shoulders dropped slightly, she seems relieved and I can’t blame her. My father reaches out and squeezes my hand.

“I know she was your friend,” he murmurs.

I nod, but can’t find my voice to respond. The next and last person of my little group of friends is me, everything that will be waiting for me wherever I choose has already fallen into place. I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.

So why do I still not know?  
Erudite. Erudite is the best choice for me; everything I’ve ever known and loved has been here, everything I am – or at least what I thought I was before twenty-four hours ago – is here. If I stay then the sky’s the limit, I think that the rest of my family has already proven that there’s nothing in this world I can’t do by virtue of the advantages granted to me by my family’s standing. I am so much luckier than most, I have had everything handed to me and the deck is stacked in my favor here. It wouldn’t just be stupid to leave, it would be ungrateful.

Every time a new person steps up, a new faction is declared, a knife is replaced, I grow more nervous.

I’m running out of time to make my decision.

“Mimette Captor-Malachite.”

I’m out of time.

I stand despite the urge to stay rooted to my spot, and begin to descend the stairs.

I glance over to the Amity to look at Casey. She flashes me another smile that I again can’t bring myself to return. Mark is smiling at me too, though very subtly. After a second he gives me a small wave. Oh I want to join him, Casey, and my cousins so much. I skim the crowd but can’t find a single one of them. Oh well, I know that they’re watching me.

No pressure.

Kira twists again to look at me as I rise. Yesterday I told her that I already knew what I was going to do; I wonder if she’s figured out I was lying yet.  

As I pass the front row I am close enough that Minerva could reach over the leader of her faction, Jack Kang, and touch me. She gives me a knowing smile and I feel bad all over again, I do regret not being able to join her.

My heart pounds as I ascend the steps to the stage. Jeanine and my mother look up and smile at me, I told them that I knew what I was choosing and where that was. It’s a lie either way but do I really need them to know that? Jeanine straightens in her chair and I straighten my spine as well. I am my parents’ prim, perfect, _Erudite_ daughter. I know what they want and need from me.

I take the knife from Andrew, it gleams brightly in the light. All of my sixteen years of life have led up to this moment. I have had sixteen years to decide and now I’m standing here and I’m still unsure. My blood in the already red water, my blood soaking into the dirt, my blood crackling on the coals. I exhale and press the blade into the edge of my left hand, wincing at the sting and tilting it so that the blood flows into my palm. I stand before the bowls and then turn my head, looking back at the color-coded crowd. That’s when I find Gwendolyn. She is sitting almost dead center in the fifth row with the other department heads and their families, she must have been late, and around her are Michael, Melanie, Maureen, and Victoria; but she is the only one that I am focusing on. Gwendolyn left Dauntless because Erudite is where she belonged. She gave up everything she knew and everyone that she loved to become the person that she wanted to be. Not the person that she was, but the ideal. Not the person that her family wanted to be, but because she knew who she wanted to be. She knew how she wanted her life to be. I wonder if she was ever unsure, I wonder if she was ever afraid.

I step to the right and I am standing between the Erudite and Dauntless bowls. Amity is out; sorry Mark, sorry Casey.

I don’t believe in fate; I am not _fated_ for anywhere, I choose where I belong. In the end the choice is mine; in the end this is something that I have to do alone.

I extend my shaking arm all the way, and then I turn my hand over, opening my fingers, and my blood falls on the coals.

I know the person that I want to be and I trust in her, and I don’t care about what everyone else wants out of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yike, so i forgot to update monday because everything happens all at once, but better late than never I guess


	6. Prove It

I am in a haze of disbelief for a while. I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe that’s what I chose. My heart pounds in my chest still and I’m breathing heavily. I don’t even regret it; I cannot regret it. I stare down at the band-aid over the cut in wonder and I cannot help the smile that splits my face.

I spend the rest of the ceremony watching the people that I love too closely. Casey and I meet eyes across the auditorium more than once. We’re both so far off the paths chosen for us, and all we can do is hope that it pays off.

My parents, Mark, Minerva, and Jeanine continue to watch the ceremony without looking in my direction once. But there’s something different in Minerva’s expression, I can’t tell if she’s smiling or grimacing.

There’s too many people in between the others and I. Maybe I don’t even want to see their reactions.

Before I know it, the ceremony is over, another batch of adults thrown out into the world, my choice cemented forever.

The Abnegation transfer sitting to the left of me looks a little stunned that she’s even here. I understand the feeling.

Because the Dauntless sit closest to the doors, we are the first to leave. As the line streams out the door I risk one last glance back at everything I’ve left behind. It’s easy to pick everyone out now that I know where they were sitting. Mark runs a hand through his curls, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. Casey is looking back at me, this time I do return her smile. Eliza and Kira only have eyes for each other, chattering excitedly as they embrace. Jeanine is staring at me too, I see no disapproval in her eyes, only pure unadulterated shock. The twins and their families are leaving as one complete unit, talking at a mile a minute with all the hand gestures in the world and casting quick glances in my direction. As surprised as they seem they also look vaguely impressed – all of them do – and something hums in my chest, because I put those looks there and they aren’t upset.  My parents clasp each other’s hands tightly and don’t speak, my father looks stunned, my mother looks disappointed. Minerva is looking back at me too despite Jack Kang clearly trying to talk to her, one hand on her hip and a slight smile on her face. She shakes her head and then turns away. I can’t be sure, but I think that she’s laughing.

Then I’m in the stairwell and I can see my friends and family no more. The Dauntless start running and us transfers have no choice but to keep up as people push and shove to get ahead.

“What the hell is going on?!” I hear someone shout, a transfer obviously.

I grip the railing tightly as I run, afraid of falling. I’m not afraid of heights, but I’m also not an idiot and I know that one wrong shove and I could be pitched over the railing.

I am breathing heavily by the time we reach the bottom and cross the lobby, bursting out the doors into the crisp autumn air. I try to stay graceful as we run through the streets, but that’s kind of hard in these shoes. My ankle twists underneath me and I nearly fall, but I catch myself on the jacket of a Candor girl. She yelps and nearly falls back with me, but manages to steady herself.

“Sorry,” I say, staring up at her.

She helps me right myself. “’S fine.”

She runs off and after a second go after her. As the crowd nears the end of the street I realize that the Dauntless are beginning to climb the metal scaffolding to the tracks overhead. There’s no ladder, after a moment of pause I begin to climb up one side, which is difficult in my heels and pencil skirt. I drag myself up to the platform finally and stand with everyone else.

The train rounds a bend and sounds its horn.

“Oh no,” another Erudite transfer groans. “Are we supposed to jump on that thing?”

“Yes,” says the Abnegation girl, still trying to catch her breath. But she smiles like this isn’t totally insane.

The crowd stretches into a long line, the people at the front with only a few feet to go before the edge. There’s no guardrail to keep us from going over the edge of the platform in case we trip, which is likely if everyone is as pushy as they were when we were running down the stairs.

Us transfers all stand near the back of the line with the older Dauntless near the front. We will learn by their example, and make it on by sheer luck.

The train whips past me and the Dauntless begin to run; the ones near the front with very little platform in front of them barely make it, throwing themselves through the door and scrambling inside. The Dauntless-born, who have been doing this all their lives have no trouble either. The last cars are obviously meant for the transfers because the front part is already past the end and the middle section is moving away quickly as well. Only now do I realize how few transfers there are, only fifty or so if even that. Though I guess Dauntless is the second smallest faction for a reason. The statistic is that like one in every five faction members across the city is a transfer. Erudite has no less than a hundred transfers every year so this is stunning to say the least.

This is the first test; every Dauntless that can walk can jump on the train, it’s a part of who they are. I have never failed a test and I won’t let this one be the exception.

I manage to grab the handle next to the door, but my feet are still on the ground and at this angle I’m having a hard time pulling myself in. As the end of the platform approaches I suddenly feel heel of my shoe come out from under me again. I fall but just as I do someone grabs me and pulls me in I look out the door to see the very end of the platform. I only barely made it.

I turn my attention back to the person that saved me; an Erudite boy, his brown hair blowing in the wind.

“Harder than it looks,” he says with a chuckle.

“You should try it in heels.”

“I’m Will,” he says. “Will Erble.”

“Mimette Malachite.” As we introduce ourselves I realize that we’re still holding on to each other. Me gripping the lapels of his jacket and him holding onto my arms.

He notices too and we very quickly let go of each other.

We sit together against the wall of the train near the door. I stare blankly at the other steel wall. I can’t believe I left; I never thought I would leave before recently. As a kid I always thought that I would stay in Erudite forever; then Mark left and Minerva followed two years later and I wasn’t sure. I have always looked up to my older siblings and I wondered how I could belong if they didn’t. But then Michael and Melanie stayed and I was even less sure. Michael and Melanie always seemed to have it all figured out and I also wanted to have it all figured out, but by the time my fifteenth birthday rolled around and I had been basically an only child for four years, Erudite no longer felt like the obvious choice, like the only choice. I remember the day that the twins chose, today five years ago, I had been expecting them to leave too and trying to guess where that would be. I ruled out Abnegation immediately, they’re both kind of vain, and eventually I came to the conclusion that they would split between Amity and Dauntless; I don’t remember how I came to rule out Candor. My eleven-year-old brain had determined that Melanie would follow Mark to Amity and Michael would become Dauntless. I was very surprised when they stayed, but in hindsight it was obvious.

I wonder what my parent will do now that I’m gone, if they’ll be together tonight or if they’ll both be at work. It’s a very busy time of year for them.

I can’t believe I left. I can’t believe I was brave enough to leave. I can’t believe that I was crazy enough to leave.

I still love my family; I love them more than I could ever really say, but I do not think that I could have remained in Erudite forever. It’s not an environment that suits everyone; even some of the smartest people absolutely cannot handle the way that Erudite demands your entire life and is generally a very competitive and hostile environment. Granted, the people that can survive tend to thrive but it does change them. I don’t think that I could have stayed; I think that I would have been fine in the academics, but the competition would kill me. I’m not a malicious person; I can be competitive, but I am not capable of the sort of attitude it takes to secure first place. Eliza is though, and that doesn’t make her a bad person it just makes her more Erudite then I will ever be.

But I don’t think I am ever going to forget that I _am_ Erudite. Part of me will always belong there and not just because it was where I was born. My brain is twenty-nine point eight-nine percent Erudite and that’s going to stick with me. I can’t say how that will affect my life in Dauntless, but I would be stupid to think that it won’t.

“They’re jumping off!” someone yells, jarring me from my daze.

I stand up and risk sticking my head out the door to look ahead, gripping the train so tightly my knuckles turn white all the while. Sure enough, the Dauntless in the cars ahead of us are leaping from the train onto the roof of a brick building.

I grimace, leaning back inside the train. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. I’ve never been afraid of heights, but that gap is at least five feet wide and I, like every sensible human being, am a little afraid of dying.

“Well that looks like fun and not at all life threatening,” Will deadpans.

“It’s like they’re _trying_ to kill us or something,” I say.

“They might be.”

“We have to jump off to then,” says a Candor girl. She’s much taller than I am and I would wager that she’s stronger too.

“Great,” a Candor boy with gelled black hair replies, “because that makes perfect sense, Molly. Leap off a train onto a roof.”

“This is kind of what we signed up for, Peter,” the girl points out.

“Well, I’m not doing it,” says an Amity boy, he is the only transfer from Amity. He has tear tracks down his face and I cannot help but feel bad for him.

“You’ve got to or you’ll fail,” another Candor girl says. She’s much smaller than Molly and very pretty. “It’ll be alright.” I realize after a second that she's the one I caught myself on when I tripped.

“No, it won’t! I’d rather be factionless than dead!” The Amity boy shakes his head. He sounds panicky. He keeps shaking his head and staring at the rooftop, which is getting closer by the second.

“What happens if we don’t jump?” says a second Candor boy. There are a lot of transfers from Candor, almost all of us.

“What do you think, you’ll be factionless.” Peter says and he squeezes the other boy’s shoulder as he walks away, “Good luck Al.”

I don’t necessarily _want_ to do this, this could easily kill me. But I don’t have any other choice, unlike that Amity boy I would rather not be factionless than dead. I’m not that afraid of dying.

I back up to the far wall of the train after Peter and Molly jump. The rooftop is right in front of us now. I take off my heels so that I can get a good running start and before the reality of the situation can catch up with me, I jump.

I feel weightless for a moment, propelled through the air unbound by gravity. Then I crash into the gravel of the rooftop and I am reminded why I did not want to do this. I didn’t hit my head, so that’s good, but I tore my tights something awful. Before I can even stand up, Will lands next to me with a groan. He sits up, brushing the gravel from his jacket as I do with my arms. The tiny rocks stick in my skin but I don’t appear to be bleeding, another small grace.

“Are you okay?” Will asks, he stands and then offers his hand to me.

“I’m fine, are you?”

“Yeah. That was…definitely something.”

I nod as I turn away to look for my shoes. I find them a few feet in front of me and am only just sliding them back onto my feet when I hear a wail.

A Dauntless girl stands at the edge of the roof staring at the ground below, screaming. Behind her a Dauntless boy holds her at the waist to keep her from falling off.

“Rita,” he says. “Rita, calm down. Rita—”

I do not have to look over the edge to know that someone didn’t make it. I don’t have to, but I do.

A girl just my age with bright purple hair lays broken on the concrete several stories below. Her limbs are twisted at strange angles and there’s a growing pool of blood under her head. I feel ill just looking at her but can’t bring myself to tear my eyes away. I am suddenly very aware of just how high up we are, and how I survived basically by luck alone. That girl – whoever she was – had grown up jumping on and off of trains. By all accounts, she should have made it and I shouldn’t.

Without even sparing Rita a passing glance, I turn away and slip my heels back on. Then I cross the roof to focus on the older man standing on the opposite ledge like a girl didn’t just die missing the other side.

“Listen up! My name is Max! I am one of the leaders of your new faction!” If I recall correctly, the Dauntless have five leaders but only two serve on the council and they tend to have more power than the other three. I recognize Max as the leader that the council acknowledges. He’s relatively new to his position, only stepping into it two years ago after his predecessor died. That is the only detail I can remember about Max; even my parents and Jeanine barely speak of him and when they do it’s with contempt for him and his faction. Something that I learned to just tune out over the years. For all that I like to pretend like my family is above catty Erudite snobbishness and gossip, I’m always inevitably reminded that their contempt for the other faction council members mostly stems from a contempt for the factions from which they hail.

Max looks much older in person than in the few photographs that I’ve seen in papers and magazines, stories about him or pictures from the Faction Galas. His age shows in the creases in his dark skin and the gray that streaks his closely cropped hair. He paces back and forth on the ledge, perfectly balanced. I can’t imagine willingly balancing myself so precariously.

“Several stories below us is the member’s entrance to our compound,” he continues, “If you can’t muster the will to jump off, you don’t belong here. Our initiates will have the privilege of going first.” He eyes us all with an unimpressed look on his face. After all of the Dauntless members step away, I realize just what a small crowd we are. We’ve already lost two transfers; one failed to jump on the train and the other never jumped off. With our small numbers the absences are positively glaring.

“You want us to jump off a ledge?” asks an Erudite girl shorter than me, her auburn curls adorned with a white bow that reminds me of Eliza.

“Yes,” Max says, looking amused.

I roll my eyes; they just had us jump from a moving train onto the roof. Obviously, we have to get off the roof somehow.

“Is there water at the bottom or something?” Will asks.

“I guess you’ll find out.”

No one moves for a minute, everyone waiting to see who would step up first. I would, but I would rather see someone else survive it first.

“Someone’s gotta go first,” Max says, scanning the crowd. “Who’s it gonna be?”

Finally, the lone Abnegation transfer speaks.

“Me,” she says with more strength than I think I could manage in her situation.

Many people in the crowd snicker as she moves, but it does not seem to bother her. Max steps aside, allowing her to stand on the edge and get a good look at what she’s about to jump into. She does not seem nervous in the slightest, she looks determined and brave; like Kira, like Casey, like everything that Dauntless wants us to be.

She stands there for a moment before taking off her jacket.

“Yeah, Stiff, take it off!” Peter calls and then says more quietly, “Put it back on.”

She looks behind her at Peter and then balls up her jacket and throws it at him. It hits him in the chest and he glares at her. She doesn’t waste another moment, jumps so quickly that one might have missed it if they blinked. She doesn’t scream, I don’t even hear her land.

“Alright,” Max says. “Who’s next.”

Peter and the short Candor girl both move forward, but so do I. I step around the girl and shove Peter out of my way and into a Dauntless-born. I stand up on the ledge, looking down at the large hole in the concrete. I cannot see beneath it, there is only darkness. I take a deep breath and jump before I can reconsider.

I scream into my teeth all the way down, or at least until I strike something and the wind is knocked out of me. I bounce back up into the air before falling again and remaining this time. I’ve landed in a net made of thick rope and black mesh.

Underground.

The entire compound is underground. Now I understand why Kira really couldn’t just sneak us in. There was no possible way for us not to get caught.

I lay there for a couple of seconds, staring up at the sky with a laugh bubbling up in my throat. The net is pulled and then I am pulled into a standing position on a wooden platform with stairs off to the side. At the bottom, the Abnegation girl is waiting for the rest of us.

The person that pulled me from the net is tall and rough looking. He has a frown set into his face as if he’s never had a happy day in his life.

He looks down and says, “Nice shoes.”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Thanks.”

“You got a name, Ice Queen?”

I frown. “Call me Mi-…” I falter, the name that my parents gave me just doesn’t sound right anymore. That’s not me; I’m not who they thought I was or who they wanted me to be. I am no longer their perfect daughter, perhaps I never was.

“Oh, is that difficult? Thought the Erudite were supposed to be smart.” He shakes his head. “Pick a new one if you want, but make it good, you don’t pick again.”

_Isn’t that just the theme of the day_ , I think and almost say but think better of it.

I need a name; I don’t want to divorce myself from my family entirely. I’m still their daughter, their sister, their cousin; I’m still me.

‘ _Mim_ ’ doesn’t sound right, it’s too deeply personal. It’s tied too closely with every other part of my life in Erudite because that’s not just what my family called me, it’s what my friends called me too.

But, I was called something else; something that was simultaneously more and less personal, something that I associate with one person only. ‘ _Mimi_ ’ was only Jeanine’s nickname for me, it’s something that she’s called me for as long as I can remember. We always had a kind of bond. I was a lot closer to her than my siblings were, we always spent a lot of time together and I really do care for her. She was like a second mother to me. And perhaps I should let the name that she gave me, the second name that I had, that was a testament to the genuine affection she held for me, be the name that I carry through Dauntless. It is a piece of my home, something that the world is unfamiliar with but the people who deep down I still care about are.

“Call me Mimi,” I say. “Mimi Malachite.”

Something in his face changes for a split second before it reverts back to that frown. “Alright. Second jumper, Mimi.”


	7. A Far Cry From Home

When all of the initiates stand on solid ground, we are led down a dark hallway by two older people. Not all of the transfers made it down, which Max seems very smug about; saying he knew that at least one of us wouldn’t make it Behind me, I can still hear the noise of people hitting the net, the Dauntless members who rode with us from the Hub.

The people leading our crowd are the young man that pulled me from the net and an older looking woman with dark brown hair cut by a vibrant purple streak.

The tunnel is lit by lights in the ceiling placed every few feet and is made of rough gray stone. I remember enough from faction history class to know that the Dauntless compound is very old but, like all of the factions, has had to adapt to the changing times and change their compound to suit new needs. Some parts are visibly older than others and it seems this is one of those hallways. The stone walls are rough, but the floor has been worn smooth by feet passing over it for centuries now.

Will and I walk side by side, both of us sharing a look of wonder. Then the whole crowd stops and once and I come very close to bumping into Molly in front of me. Will starts slightly as the singular Abnegation transfer smacks into his back.

“This is where we divide,” says the woman with the purple streak in her hair. “The Dauntless-born initiates are with me. I assume you don’t need a tour of the place.”

She turns away, the Dauntless-born ass following behind her and they disappear into the darkness of another hallway. Clumped together like this it is once again easy to see how small our class really is. Most of us are from Candor and Erudite, just a handful from Amity, and then there’s the tiny Abnegation girl.

“Okay,” says the man, “now that we’ve gotten that squared away let me introduce myself. Most of the time I work in the control room, but for the next few weeks, I am your instructor,” he says. “My name is Four.”

A short girl from Candor laughs. “Four? Like the number?”

“Exactly like the number.”

I have to press my lips together to keep myself from laughing.

“What happened, one through three were taken?”

“No. Is there a problem?”

“No.”

“Good. Now, if you follow me I’ll show you the Pit, which someday you will learn to love. It-”

She laughs again. “The Pit? Clever name.”

I don’t laugh, though I want to, but I don’t bother to hide my smile.

Four’s frown deepens. He steps close to the girl, nearly having to put his chin against his chest to look down at her.

“What’s your name?” he says quietly.

“Christina,” she replies, all of her bravado leaving her voice.

Four doesn’t respond for a second, just glares down at her before finally he hisses, “Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction. The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got that?”

She nods, looking uncomfortable. I would be in her position, but I am not afraid of Four. He’s the least frightening thing I’ve had to face today.

Four turns and continues down the tunnel.

“What a jerk,” I overhear Christina mutter to the Abnegation transfer.

“I guess he just doesn’t like to be laughed at,” she replies.

Christina could not be the first person to tease Four about his name and I’m sure that she won’t be the last. Perhaps if he didn’t want to be laughed at then he should have picked a less stupid name.

Four pushes open a set of double doors and we walk through from the dark hallways into a much wider and brighter space.

“Welcome to the Pit,” Four says behind us. “Center of life here at Dauntless.”

“Oh,” Christina says quietly, “I get it.”

‘ _Pit_ ’ really is the best word for what I’m looking at. Our crowd of initiates stands on the top level of a massive room with the bottom being five levels beneath us and above us is a skylight that lets in the evening sun. Above us I can see the shadows of apartment buildings, which must be where the Dauntless live. Inside the Pit, there are people absolutely everywhere. Different shops occupy most of the spaces along the wall and the bottom floor has stone tables and benches smattering it that remind me of the Commons. Someone notices us on the upper floor and gets the attention of others. Before I know it, a cheer has gone up across the crowd.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Four says. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the Chasm.”

He leads us away from the Pit down another set of winding hallways before we see the light of another open space. Really we hear the Chasm before we see it, hear the rush of water beating against stone. The Chasm is lit by a few dim white lights, but mostly by the massive skylight above. The lighting and the silence make the entire place seem otherworldly. He waves us forward. The Chasm has railings blocking the edges where the stone abruptly ends and a bride over the wide gap.

I grip the railing tightly and look down, seeing rushing white water beating against the stone walls and the stones in the river itself. The Chasm winds into darkness in both directions.

“The Chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!” Four shouts above the roar of the water. “A daredevil jump off this ledge will end your life. It has happened before and it will happen again. You’ve been warned.”

“This is amazing,” Will says. “How do you figure they carved out the river? I mean, how did they even get the water down here, it’s not exactly like we’ve got a bunch of stray rivers lying around.”

He leans over the railing to get a better look and I stay with him, the same questions pressing my mind. I wonder how far it goes, where then ends are.

I glance up to see the last of our class receding down yet another tunnel.

“Will.” I nudge him and nod in the direction of our disappearing fellow initiates.

“Oh, right.” We both hurry off after them.

At the end of the last hallway we turn down is a single door, with two more doors on the right and left walls.

Four opens the door at the very end and it leads into a room with bunkbeds set up head to foot with each other. Underneath each of the bunkbeds are two laundry baskets and resting on top of every one of the sheets are identical black uniforms.

“You’ll be sleeping in here for the next ten weeks.”

“Girls or boys,” says another Candor transfer. He has a mess of orange hair on his head and beady black eyes.

“Both,” Four says.

A snicker runs through the crowd and I roll my eyes.

“Some ground rules,” he says. “You have to be in the training room by eight o’clock every day. Training takes place every day from eight to six, with a break for lunch. You are free to do whatever you like after six. You will also get some time off between each stage of initiation. But, you are only permitted to leave the compound when accompanied by a Dauntless. You will notice that there are more beds than there are initiates. We anticipated that a higher proportion of you would make it this far.”

There’s enough floor space several more rows of beds could probably fit comfortably, there was probably a time when it did. Dauntless recruitment has been dwindling but I had no idea it was this bad. Four doesn’t look at all surprised by the small number or transfers in the slightest.

“Bathrooms are on either side of the hallway,” Four says. “You have fifteen minutes to change.”

He leaves and people start claiming their beds. I take the bottom bunk against the far wall where I can see the entire room from my bed and then Will claims the bed above me after a brief questioning glance. Some people seem to be familiar with each other, talking as they change into the plain black outfits.

I remove my jacket and when I am quite sure that no one’s looking, pull my journal from the inside pocket and shove it underneath the mattress.

My tights are totally in tatters from everything that I’ve done today and I notice a rip on the seam of my skirt too, probably from landing on the roof. The clothes they laid out for us seem to come in a one size fits most, because they certainly didn’t measure us beforehand. I am very thankful for my mostly average figure because my pants, and jacket fit me just fine with the shoes only being a little too big and the shirt being only just tight enough to be uncomfortable and ride up when I move my arms.

Lots of my fellow initiates were not so lucky.

Peter, Will, and Erudite boy whose name I don’t know make their shirts look like crop tops; Christina, Tris, and one of the Erudite girsl whose name I don’t know are all too small for their shirt, pants, or both; Molly, and two of the unnamed Candor boys are also too big for their clothes.

“What are we supposed to do?” Will says. “They can’t expect us to go out like this.”

“Maybe it’s the next test,” I say with a touch of humor. “Braving public humiliation.

“Says the girl whose clothes fit perfectly.” He tries in vain to pull his shirt down over his stomach again.

I roll my eyes as I try to adjust my pants so they don’t ride up so much to no avail.

No one attempts to go anywhere in their ridiculous outfits and fifteen minutes later, Four comes back.

He knocks first, “Everyone decent in there?”

“As decent as we’re going to get,” the ginger Candor says, looking miserably at his way too small shirt.

Four opens the door and stops dead, his eyes skimming over all of us.

“I see,” he says. “Well, that might be a problem.”

“Oh, you think so?” Christina deadpans, as she rolls up the legs of her pants.

“Wait here.” He leaves quickly and we all wait around in tense silence.

A few minutes later he returns with several boxes labeled with different sizes.

“Alright,” he says. “These are the boxes we pulled the uniforms from, so just pick your size and I’ll be back in another fifteen.”

“Why didn’t he just do this the first time?” Christina wonders aloud.

No one responds besides a shrug or a noise of similar confusion. Finally, we all manage to change into a uniform that fits us. When Four comes back the next time we’re all better off clothing wise.

“Okay,” he says. “If you’ll all follow me, we’ll get rid of your old clothes.”

He leads us down another series of winding hallways until we’re back near the Pit again. We take a sharp left into a room that is empty except for a large metal basin with a fire burning inside of it. Four gestures us forward and one by one we throw our old clothes into the fire. I pause when it’s my turn, not hesitating to throw my clothes into the fire but pausing to watch them burn. I feel no guilt, not for such a material attachment. I have a few pieces of home left, things that I won’t ever let be taken from me. Four catches me by the shoulder as I walk away from the fire, he gestures toward my hair.

“Your clip,” he says.”

“Right.” I reach around to the back of my head and take it from my hair, letting the sections it was holding back fall around my face. I toss it in the fire and it lands atop the other clothes with a soft thud.

“Better?”

“Fine.” He lets me go and I move past him to wait with the others.

Some of the other initiates seem far more reluctant to let their old clothes go, looking almost sad for the first time since arriving as if this is the worst thing that we’ve had to do today.

When everybody’s done we’re led away back to the Pit. Four takes us up the stairs that connect the levels until we reach the third one where there are another set of double doors. He pushes them both open and we’re led into another massive space filled with people. There are several rows of bench like tables with more circular ones near the back and sides. On every table are trays stacked high with food, the scent filling the room. Like in the Pit, there are people absolutely everywhere talking and laughing loudly, making the room a sea of voices with no one discernable conversation. It is both exciting and incredibly intimidating. I know that I’ve always said that the Dauntless don’t know how to act, and usually this behavior is exactly what I’m referring to, but now it seems less out of place than it did in the school cafeteria. With everyone doing the same thing it just seems natural, everyone seems so happy. Like a much louder Amity.

Most of the Dauntless members have already claimed the bench tables, so us initiates shuffle toward the back, breaking up to each find our own tables. I look around for Will, and then for an empty seat when I can’t find him. What I find is an entire table of nine or so chairs occupied only by the Abnegation transfer, Christina, and Four. I approach them hesitantly, not knowing the two girls and already not really liking Four but there isn’t an empty table for me to claim and I don’t want to just be wandering around.

“Pardon me,” I say. “May I sit here?”

“Go for it,” Christina says, nodding toward the chair next to her. “I’m Christina, you?”

“Mimi Malachite.”

Christina gives me a curious look, but nods. “That’s Tris.”

“It’s very nice to meet you both.”

“Malachite,” Tris repeats. “Hey, didn’t we meet this morning.”

_Oh how could I forget?_ Instead of saying that, I nod. “Beatrice?”

“It’s Tris,” she says. “Mimette?”

“Just Mimi.”

We don’t talk about the part where her father has a bitter rivalry with my mother and Jeanine. That should make Visiting Day interesting.

“You two already know each other?” Christina says.

I shake my head, “Hardly. We met through, just sort of a...formality.”

I am not sure how comfortable Tris is with me telling people that she’s Andrew Prior’s daughter.

“That was...really awkward,” Tris says.

I laugh. _And who’s fault is that?_ I think. But I know that she’s also referring to the palpable tension before she spoke

“Terribly so,” I agree.

We leave the conversation at that. No one else needs to know the details of the exchange; we probably shouldn’t even be talking about it, it happened before we were ever Dauntless and that’s probably some sort of taboo.

Instead, Tris goes back to poking at her burger with curiosity.

“It’s beef,” Four says. “Put this on it.” He slides her a bowl of ketchup and Tris takes it hesitantly. It’s hard to believe that she jumped off a building without hesitation, but is put off by a hamburger.

“You’ve never had a hamburger before?” Christina says, pausing mid-bite to stare at her with wide eyes.

“No,” Tris says. “Is that what it’s called?”

“Stiffs eat plain food,” Four says.

“Why?” Christina asks, looking as curious as any Erudite I’ve ever seen. I guess that Candor don’t make it their business to know other faction’s customs. I guess that does explain a lot.

Tris shrugs, “Extravagance is considered unnecessary.”

Christina smirks. “No wonder you left.”

Tris rolls her eyes. “Yeah, it was totally just because of the food.”

The conversation doesn’t continue because the doors opening again brings a hush over the room. Even the rowdiest Dauntless quiet down and turn their attention to the man that just entered. He doesn’t seem very much older than us either, about Four’s age, but he’s also quite intense looking. His bleach blonde hair is slicked back, or it’s really greasy, or both. By the looks of him it’s probably both. He has multiple piercings in his face that glint in the light and a smirk on his face. His cold black eyes sweep across the room before they finally settle on our table and he begins walking toward us more quickly.

“Who’s that?” Christina hisses as he approaches.

“That’s Eric,” Four says. “He’s the Dauntless representative.”

“Seriously?! But he’s so young?”

“Isn’t the Candor representative like twenty-three?” I point out like I don’t know.

“Yeah, but he’s like our age?”

“Two years older,” Four corrects her. “And age doesn’t matter in Dauntless.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, Eric drops down into the seat beside Four. He offers no greeting and neither do we. Slowly, the room begins to return to its regular noise level.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence Eric says, “Well, are you going to introduce me?”

“Tris, Mimi, Christina,” Four says, gesturing lazily to each of us as if we’ve suddenly become a nuisance.

He looks carefully as each of us, pausing for another second longer on me.

“Have we met before?”

“I doubt it.”

“You look familiar,” he says, his brow furrowing like he doesn’t belive me.

I shrug and hum in acknowledgement.

He shrugs apathetically and turns his attention to Tris, his smirk growing much wider.

“A Stiff,” he says. “We’ll see how long you last here.”

Tris offers no response, simply takes another bite of her burger and looks away.

He says nothing to Christina, seeming far more interested in Four. “What have you been doing lately, Four?”

Four shrugs. “Nothing really.”

I look between them, wondering if they’re friends. Everything that Eric has done so far suggests that they are. But Four’s body language shows the opposite. If Eric thinks they’re friends, Four is too polite to correct him. However, that doesn’t sound exactly right. As far as I can tell, polite and Four don’t exactly seem like they go together.

“Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you, and you don’t show up,” Eric says, “He requested that I find out what’s going on with you.”

Four stares at Eric blankly for a few seconds before saying, “Tell him that I am satisfied with the position I currently hold.”

“So he wants to give you a job.”

Perhaps Eric views Four as a potential threat to his position. I don’t see why he would; although, I guess that competition isn’t quite so impressive as in Erudite. Those vying for leadership are probably chosen based on brawn alone.

“So it would seem.”

“And you’re not interested?” Eric raises his eyebrows.

“I haven’t been interested for two years.”

“Well,” Eric claps him on the shoulder as he stands. “let’s hope he gets the message then.”

“So...you two are friends?” Tris says once Eric is out of an earshot.

“We were in the same initiate class,” Four says. “He transferred from Erudite.”

“Can’t help but notice that that’s not an answer,” I drawl and then remember who I’m talking to as soon as the words have left my mouth.

Four glares at me. “Not every question requires an answer, Ice Queen.”

“If you don’t want people to ask follow up questions, then perhaps you should try answering the question the first time.”

“We’re you a transfer too?” Tris asks, shifting the subject.

“I thought I was only going to have problems with the Candor asking questions and sassing me,” he says coldly. “Now I’ve got Stiffs and stuck up Erudites too?”

“It must be because you’re so approachable,” Tris says flatly before I can speak. “You know, like a bed of nails.”

He stares at Tris and she stares back, suddenly emboldened. Or perhaps this is just how she always is, as her comment at the Choosing Ceremony suggests.

“Careful, Tris,” he says and stands up. “And watch your mouth, Ice Queen.”

Christina looks between us, her eyebrows practically in her hairline. “You two…”

I shrug. “I’m not afraid of him. He’s just some eighteen-year-old with an attitude problem, that’s nothing.”

“Regardless.” She waves away me comment. “You two, especially you,” she points at Tris, “have a death wish.”

I have dealt with people much worse than Four. He’s just posturing; all of his brooding and frowning is just hiding some sort of weakness, that’s usually how it goes with those types. I don’t care if he’s my instructor, he’s also an asshole.

After dinner we only have an hour before lights out, which is literally just Four poking his head in the door and telling us to go to sleep before flicking off the lights.  He told us that we’ve got a long day ahead of us. After all of the running and jumping that we’ve done today I can’t imagine what they’ll throw at us next.

Jumping off an even higher roof, maybe?

I’ve never had to sleep in a room with other people aside from sleepovers with my friends, let alone so many of them. I hear at least three people snoring and two people crying and that is making it very difficult to fall asleep.

When I chose Dauntless I really didn’t have any idea what I was getting into. I still don’t have any idea what I’m getting into, but that’s incredibly thrilling. Despite everything, all of the difficulty that we’ve already faced, the fact that we’ve already lost three initiates and one of them to death, and my total jerk of an instructor, I’m having fun. I like it here; I very sincerely do and I will not regret my choice. I won’t allow myself to second guess or consider what might have been. This might not be everything that I’ve always wanted, as so many refer to their experience joining a faction, but it is something that I want now. The thing about Dauntless that’s always drawn me to it is that they’ve always been so happy; they make all of the things they do look easy, look fun, look like the time of your goddamn life. And maybe it’s not as easy as it looks, maybe it’s much harder. But I refuse to believe that that makes it any less fun. I didn’t join Dauntless for power, notoriety, and glamour; if that was what I wanted I would have been Erudite. I joined Dauntless for the lifestyle, the quick pace, the thrill of adventure, the bond that everyone seemed to share. When I joined Dauntless I literally sold my life to a dream; I don’t actually know if any of that is the reality of Dauntless, but I want it to be. I want to become the embodiment of the wonder that I felt when I watched the Dauntless; I want to inspire people like me. I want to see Dauntless whole again, bursting with life. I never saw it as it was in its hayday; I hardly even hear about it. But I know that is what Gwendolyn grew up around. That was her life for so many years; I know her well enough to know why she left, know that she wanted more for herself than just an adventure. I’m never going to be like Gwendolyn or Kira, born in one faction but so clearly meant for another. I fit well in Erudite, I could have been happy there, part of me will always belong there, but in the end that wasn’t what I wanted. I loved Erudite; I did, but I don’t regret leaving and I doubt I ever will. What I think I will regret in time will be leaving  my friends and family behind. They were so much of why I wanted to stay in Erudite; they would have been what kept me alive through the living hell that I’ve heard initiation is. I was old enough when the twins joined Erudite to remember what they said about it, what they experienced. They never sugarcoated the way that sometimes it felt like one was fighting just to survive. Eliza and Kira will endure and survive it; Eliza might even come out at the top of it, but it is not something I would ever want to bear alone.

Dauntless will be hard; I won’t pretend that it won’t be. I might even be the most difficult thing I ever do. Everything from choosing to be here in the first place to going through initiation will challenge everything that I know. I have been brought up with Erudite mannerisms that I will have to drop if I want to survive in Dauntless, if I want to avoid discovery. I can never let on that I belong in more place than one, that I am not entirely Dauntless. I will devote myself to it without hesitation; but according to the way that my brain is wired, I can never be totally and completely Dauntless.

The Abnegation are trained from early childhood in the art of forgetting yourself and I think, and no one can ever know this, I think that it might behoove me to take a page out of their book. I have to forget about who I was, that no longer matters; piece by piece I will have to deconstruct every part of me that was Erudite and rebuild myself in the Dauntless mode. That is the only way that I will avoid discovery.

I don’t know how; but that’s what initiation is supposed to teach me and I’m a pretty fast learner I can adapt and I will. I will be whatever they want me to be to fit in with them, to avoid discovery, but also to the Dauntless that I so desperately want to be, the Dauntless that I left Erudite to become. I may not quite be there, but absolutely nothing is going to deter me from this.

I’ve made my choice and now I have to stick with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about not updating, I'm not even busy anymore I'm just lazy.


	8. Traning Daze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone gets a little more than they'd bargained for.

I wake to the sound of metal hitting metal and the moment I open my eyes they are assaulted by the rooms bright fluorescent light. I groan and roll over wishing I could fall asleep again. It’s too early; I don’t care what time it is, it’s too early. And judging by the sound of others being woken by the noise, my fellow initiates agree with me.

I’ve always been an early riser; but that was before I was jumping off roofs and whatever. I’m sure that I’ll grow used to this in time; but that time has not come to pass yet.

“Everyone up!” Four yells. “Be in the Pit in ten.”

The door slams, announcing his departure. After a moment, we all slowly begin to wake up. I sit up and run my fingers through my hair to clear it from my face. My eyes slowly adjust to the bright light.

“And we thought yesterday was bad,” Will says through his yawn.

Yesterday morning I woke up in the bedroom that I’d had for sixteen years in a comfortable bed with a soft comforter. Today I woke up in a room with nine other people I barely know, it’s cold, and I’m exhausted. Before I can get up or even get my legs out of bed, Will drops down from the bunk above me and I swallow a shriek. Not well enough apparently as he glances at me and notices my look of astonishment; he laughs to himself and then starts shuffling through the crowd to get to the bathroom. I stretch again only for my hands to slam against the wooden bottom of the bed above me. I groan in pain and take one more minute to collect myself. I realize that my phone is probably still on my bed where I left it. I won’t ever get it back. I don’t know why that bothers me, it shouldn’t; I would have had to get rid of it anyways. But the thought nags at me as I get ready for my first day of training. I braid my hair back to keep it away from my face and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look very plain, and the light is washing me out. I’m good looking but I always look a little better with makeup; a little less tired, a little more striking.

Tris stands next to be at the row of sinks, keeping her head down and avoiding her reflection as I mess with my hair some more.

“How can you stand to look at yourself all the time. Isn’t it…I don’t know…weird?”

I shrug. “No. I think that’s just an Abnegation thing.”

She frowns. “Right.”

The running water stops and after a few more minutes, Christina steps out and joins us.

“You know,” she says, “I’ve always wanted to try makeup. Like, it’s always seemed really interesting to me.”

“Does Candor not allow makeup?” I ask.

“Not at all. Something about not being dishonest about our appearances or whatever. Honestly I think it’s kind of bullshit, just let people look the way they want to, you know?”

Tris and I both agree. Tris leans forward slightly, staring intently at her reflection. Then she shakes her head and turns away.

“Come on,” she says, “we should be getting to the Pit.”

The center floor of the Pit is mostly empty this morning, probably cleared out specifically for initiation. On the upper floors, a few curious Dauntless watch us. The Dauntless-born are already there when Tris, Christina, and I arrive and our fellow transfers have either beat us here or are right on our heels.

“That looks like everyone,” says the woman who led the Dauntless-born away yesterday. “Alright,” the sound of her voice silences all of the initiates that were talking. “Welcome to your first day of initiation; my name is Lauren, to the right of me is Four,” she gestures to him and the points off to the far corner. “and over there is Eric. Four and I are your instructors and Eric, as most of you should know, is a Dauntless leader. We three will be overseeing your training.”

“There are two stages of training,” Four picks up where she left off, “the first is physical, push your bodies to the breaking point and master the methods of combat.” He paces back and forth in front of us. “The second is mental, again breaking point. You’ll face your worst fears and conquer them, unless they get you first. Transfers will be trained separately from the Dauntless-born, but in the end you’ll all be ranked together. After initiation, rankings will determine what jobs you move into; leadership, guarding the fence, working in the city, or working in the pit. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank; so it is possible, though very difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time. We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear, therefore each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way.”

“The rankings will also determine who gets cut,” Eric adds.

“Cut?” Christina repeats with a frown.

Eric’s smirk widens. “At the end of each stage the lowest ranking initiates will be leaving us.”

“To do what?” says one of the boys I haven’t met yet.

Eric shrugs, “There’s no going home to you families so you’d live factionless. Only the top one hundred initiates will be made members.”

I’m surprised; cutting initiates does seem rather counterintuitive what with Dauntless’ dwindling numbers. One would think that they’d take whatever they could get. People get cut in Erudite’s initiation, that’s how it’s always been; but Erudite is also one of the largest factions in the city, they can afford to cut people and they do. They get a hundred or two transfers every year, but I would wager that a fourth of them don’t make it past stage one and a third don’t make it past stage two. Some Erudite-born fare no better, thinking that they’d have the advantage and slipping up; making stupid mistakes that eventually lead to them being overtaken by the more intelligent transfers. Even with all of that, I’ve never seen an Erudite initiate class graduate with less than a hundred and fifty people.

Will is the first to speak after the surprising news that our place in Dauntless is not guaranteed. “Why didn’t we know that?”

Eric shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s a new rule.”

“A new rule?” Christina frowns. “Somebody should’ve told us that.”

“Why? Would you have chosen differently? Out of fear, because if that’s the case you might as well get out now. If you’re really one of us it won’t matter that you might fail. You chose us, now we get to choose you.”

That’s the thing about transferring factions; you never really know what you’re getting yourself into and Dauntless has just been surprise after surprise and none of them especially good. But I still want this. I did not join Dauntless for its ease and I would expect nothing less from a faction whose primary mode of transportation is jumping on and off of a moving train. Still, only twenty of us? There are a little over twenty Dauntless-born by my estimate and they’ve had a lifetime to prepare themselves. Those are some steep odds; but I know that they do not necessarily have the advantage over us. They may right now, but people do tend to become careless when they think that their winning.

After that _warm_ welcome from our _absolutely lovely_ faction rep, Four takes our small group of transfers into a large gym. A track wraps around the perimeter; there is a line of punching bags set up between a set of pillars and a set of targets toward the far end of the room.

“Everyone take a lap and we’ll start when you’re all finished,” Four says.

I try my best to stay with the pack; Peter and one of the Erudite boys get into a bit of a race, leaving the rest of us in the dust. Tris is pretty fast, keeping ahead of most of us but still unable to catch up to Peter and the other guy.

“You’re pretty quick when you’re not tripping over yourself,” Will says, snickering.

“You’d be astonished at the difference a pair of shoes can make,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

Christina turns to look at me, her eyes widening. “Hey, you’re that girl who tripped on me on the way to the train.”

“You what?” Will says.

I glance away, an emberassed flush in my cheeks. “It was nothing. I just lost my footing.”

“She tripped and grabbed my jacket to keep herself upright, nearly dragged me down with her.”

“Do you hang onto the jacket of everyone you meet?” Will raises his eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. “Please, I tripped and caught myself. It wasn’t even especially funny.”

“Mm, I’m pretty sure that it might have been.”

“Hey, if you want to try running in four-inch heels then be my guest. I bet you couldn’t cover half the distance I did before falling on your face. Not to mention the fact that I jumped on a moving train without taking them off.”

Will scoffs, “I don’t really think that it counts as jumping on if I pull you up.”

“Don’t be so nitpicky.”

Christina chuckles, “Do you two always bicker like this?”

“Funnily enough, we just met,” Will says. “I’ve never seen her before yesterday?

“But you came from the same faction.”

“Erudite is a faction of more than eighty thousand people,” I say. “Are you telling me that you know all the Candor transfers?”

“Some of them. I had math with Al,” she nods her head in the direction of one of the heavy-set boys toward the back, “and I’ve known Peter and his cronies since we were kids. And yes, he has always been that much of a jerk.”

We run in silence for the rest of the time, sticking near each other but not speaking. When everyone has finished and some are trying to catch their breath, Four waves us over to the targets at the other end of the room.

“Line up,” he says.

As we line up, he scoops up an armful of guns and passes them out as he talks.

“The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun. The second thing is how to win a fight.” Four hands me the gun and I hold it very gingerly. I’ve never handled one before; messed around with Melanie’s knives a little bit, sure, but never a gun.

“Thankfully, if you’re here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don’t need to teach you that.”

Tris stares down at hers nervously, holding it away from her as if it might explode in her hand. But the Abnegation are pacifists by nature, so I guess I understand where her apprehension comes from.

“But what…” Peter yawns through his words. “What does firing a gun have to do with…bravery?”

Four flips the gun he was about to hand to one of the initiates over in his hands and presses the barrel to Peter’s forehead. Peter freezes with his mouth open, his eyes wide and the yawn dead in his mouth.

“Wake. Up,” he snaps. “You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it.”

There’s a very long moment of tension where everyone is watching the two of them and neither move. The Four takes the gun away from Peter’s head. Once the immediate threat is gone, Peter glowers at him, his cheeks reddening too. Any sense of lightheartedness, enthusiasm, the notion that this might just be a little bit fun evaporates from the room and all that is left is the lingering tension and the knowledge that at any point our initiation instructor may threaten to kill any one of us. And I’m sure that no one, not even Peter or Christina or me, are willing to see if he’ll go through with it.

“And to answer your question…you are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you’re prepared to defend yourself.” Four stops walking at the end of the row and turns on his heel. “This is also information you may need later in stage one. So, watch me.”

He faces the target in the center of the row; stands with his feet apart, holds the gun in both hands and fires. Then fires three more times. Each time he does, Tris and Al flinch. When he’s done we all lean forward to get a better look at the target; every shot went through the center in very nearly the same place.

“Begin.”

We all move toward our respective targets and attempt to copy Four’s stance. The room is soon filled with the sound of gunfire; it didn’t bother me at first, but that noise times nine other people gets pretty loud. I aim for the target as best I can, though I focus more on trying to get used to the recoil and the feel of my gun before going for accuracy. After what feels like an eternity, one of my bullets embeds in the bottom of the target. I keep trying for slightly better results, making minute corrections and approaching this as I would any lesson; break it down into manageable parts and pieces. Four paces behind us, not saying much though making corrections when he needs to.

“You know,” I hear Will say to Tris further down the row, “statistically speaking, you should have hit the target at least once by now, even by accident.”

I don’t hear her response and I don’t try to, I focus only on the target and let everything else become background noise.

“Aim higher, Ice Queen,” Four says as he passes by, breaking my focus.

“Mimi,” I correct him with my irritation bleeding into my voice.

I hear his footsteps stop. “What?”

I look behind me, he hasn’t turned but he looks over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed.

“My name is Mimi, should be easy enough to remember. It’s only two syllables and we’re not exactly a big class, yeah?”

Pretty much everyone has stopped shooting now to watch our exchange. Four glares me down, waiting for me to fold and apologize. Thing is, I’m still not scared of him; I refuse to be.

“Ice Queen’s going to get her ass kicked,” I hear Peter mutter.

He sighs through his nose. “I’ll learn your name when it’s worth my time.” He looks away from me, turning his attention to everyone else. “Well? What are you all looking at, keep shooting.”

It takes me another ten minutes before I hit the target and when we break for lunch I still feel like I could use some practice. These aren’t skills that people gain overnight. But my arms are tired from holding that position for so long and I am glad for the break.

Despite our jerk instructor, I am still really excited about initiation. I like to learn new things and being Dauntless means acquiring an entirely new skill set. I still really want this, and I want to be good at this. Now that I know that initiates are ranked, I know my goal; I know what I want to aim for besides just blending in. I want to be the best; I want to be at the top. I don’t really like to think of myself at someone who fails, and I certainly won’t fail at this. But being the best and failing are two very different things; and just looking at some of my fellow initiates I can see that I’ve got some stiff competition. Peter may be a jerk, but he seems like a pretty physically fit guy and that will play to his advantage in the first stage. Many of us are behind, even farther behind the Dauntless-born and at the end we’ll be ranked together. If I could just see what I’m up against that would make this so much easier. But I guess that this was never supposed to be easy.

I’m not too concerned right now, I’ll have the next ten weeks to worry about all of this and I haven’t even really seen what anyone can do yet. All of this is purely speculation.

 

I sit with Christina and Tris again, and Christina invites that boy from her math class along, Al.

“Oh, come on. You don’t remember me?” Christina asks Al. “We were in math together just a few days ago. And I am not a quiet person.”

“I slept through Math most of the time,” Al replies. “It was first hour!”

Al seems nice enough, I mean I guess. He still seems very unsure about this, but I guess we all are and some of us are just better at hiding it.

I don’t say much, feeling slightly out of place with these two who came from the same faction and have so much to talk about. I know that I can’t make friends if I don’t talk to anyone, but I’m not like they are and I’m very acutely aware of it. I don’t know how to act so easy going, so much of me is still the restrained Erudite girl with three friends, perfect grades, and an unyielding sense of dissatisfaction. I loved Kira, Casey, and Eliza so much and I miss them so terribly; I wish that they could be here with me, I think that that would really be a sight to see. Casey’s kind of a pacifist, but I think that she would grow to love the reckless thrill and the constant energy. Eliza is Erudite and that is all she will ever be, it is where she belongs, but I think that she could make it in Dauntless too. But they’re all off doing their own things, living their own lives. I wonder if they miss me; I wonder how long it will take them to forget about our friendship.

“Tris.” Christina snaps her fingers in front of Tris’ face, who was staring off into space even more than I was. “You in there?”

“What?” She looks up from her food with a start. “What is it?”

“I asked if you ever remembered taking a class with me. I mean, no offense, but I probably wouldn’t remember if you did. All the Abnegation looked the same to me. I mean, they still do, but now you’re not one of them.”

Tris stares blankly back at her.

“Sorry, am I being rude?” Christina asks. “I’m used to just saying whatever is on my mind. Mom used to say that politeness is deception in pretty packaging.”

I am well aware of Candor’s whole philosophy on that; it’s why I generally avoided them most of the time. My sister is Candor and I love her, but that doesn’t mean I have to love her faction.

“I think that’s why our factions don’t usually associate with each other,” Tris says with a short laugh.

Candor and Abnegation generally ignore each other; Candor’s real beef lies with Amity because they want to seek peace above all else even if it means lying to achieve it. Mark and Minerva still get along pretty well, but I think that’s because they refuse to acknowledge that anything ever changed. The more things change the more they stay the same with those two; it seems like no matter how they present themselves otherwise, anytime they’re around each other they revert back into the close brother-sister duo that I’ve always known them as. I can’t even say for sure what sort of person they are inside of their faction because when they’re around me they’re the same as I’ve always known them to be.

“Can I sit here?” Will interrupts the conversation, tapping his fingers on the table.

“You not interested in sitting with the other Erudite?” Al asks.

Will deadpans, “I have never met any of them before in my life. But I do know Mimi...sort of.”

“We just met,” I say. “But, uh, yeah go ahead and sit. Right guys?”

He sits down next to me. “Besides, just because we were in the same faction before doesn’t mean we like each other, right Christina?”

She rolls her eyes, “Don’t get me started.”

“I knew them before,” he tips his head in the direction of the couple sitting alone at the table two down from ours. The boy is tall and blonde with broad shoulders and a crooked smile, the girl that leans against him is tiny with shiny red curls. “Edward and Myra. Honestly, Edward was kind of a dick.” The couple shares a kiss and Tris pulls a face.

“Do they have to be so public about it?”

“She just kissed him,” Al says with a frown. “It’s not like they’re stripping naked.”

Tris shakes her head, “Kissing is not something that you do in public.”

All four of us share a look that we then turn on Tris.

“What?” she asks, noticing our expressions.

Christina is the first to laugh. “Your Abnegation is showing. The rest of us are all right with a little affection in public.”

“Oh.” She shrugs. “I guess I’ll just have to get over it then.”

“Or you can stay frigid,” Will says with a smirk. “You know, if you want.”

Christina makes an annoyed noise and throws her roll at him. He catches it and takes a bite.

“Thanks,” he says with a full mouth.

I grimace at him slightly, thinking that he won’t notice but he does.

He swallows and says. “Aw, what’s with the look, Mimi?”

“That was...unseemly.”

He rolls his eyes, “You’re _so_ uppity.”

“I am not. I’m just...polite.”

“Ah yes, that stiff and proper Erudite born and bred propriety”

“If my propriety is Erudite-born then where’s yours?”

“See, this is what we missed out on not being born Erudite,” Al says with a laugh.

A strange look crosses Tris’ face for a moment, not long enough for anyone to notice but me.

“Don’t be mean to each other you two,” Christina says, “and don’t be mean to Tris either. Frigidity is in her nature just like being uptight is in Mimi’s and being a know-it-all is in Will’s.”

“I am not frigid!” Tris exclaims.

“I am not uptight,” I say at the same time.

We share a look and I laugh at the embarrassed flush in Tris’ cheeks and after a moment she joins in and so do the others.

 

After lunch, Four leads us back to the room we were in before but now the mats that were folded up have been unfolded and attached to one of the pillars is a large chalkboard.

I haven’t ever seen one up close before. I know that some factions like Abnegation use them in teaching lower levels, but in Erudite we just had interactive screens for that purpose. Surely Erudite could provide the proper equipment if they were to ask for it, that is their job as a faction, but I suppose that Dauntless just prioritizes training over tech. That’s something new too.

On the board our names are written in alphabetical order.

“Pick a punching bag and stand by it,” Four says.

My friends and I take five right next to each other, I stand at the one in between Will and Tris. Four stands in the middle of the line so that we can all see him.

“As I said this morning,” he says, “next you will learn how to fight. The purpose of this is to prepare you to act; to prepare your body to respond to threats and challenges, which you will need, if you intend to survive life as a Dauntless.”

My sister picked up hand to hand combat when she was a little younger than me as a form of exercise. She absolutely loved it and got really, really good at it too. She would kind of show me a few things, just little stances and the like. I don’t know if she still practices, but I think she would be really happy to see me taking it up now. I never practiced it much, it never even crossed my mind to look into it when I got to be around the age that she started, maybe I should have. But I’m learning now and that’s what matters.

“We’ll go over technique and then on Monday you’ll start fighting each other. So I recommend that you pay attention, those that don’t learn fast will get hurt.”

Today is Sunday, which means that we have six days to get the hang of this in theory. Luckily, learning fast is my specialty. I might not be the strongest person around and I might not know a lot right now, but my advantage is that I’m very adaptable. And if I have to, I’m more than willing to put in extra practice so that I win my first fight.

Four names a few different punches and demonstrates them first against the air and then against the punching bag. He says that we’ll start learning kicks on Wednesday, but that’s not as important.

I catch on as we practice, slowly, but I start to understand the movements a little more. The tough fabric of the punching bag stings against my skin and the movements feel awkward, but I begin to figure out what I’m supposed to be doing. The others are in similar boats, with the glaring exception of Edward who is getting this really fast. I shake my head, turning my attention away from the others and back to the punching bag. I know that I can get this if I just keep working at it. Practice doesn’t make perfect, god knows I’ve never been that, but it does make better and this is just another skill to add to my repertoire. It’s not that different than learning math; a set of techniques and variables that can be practiced and memorized. Only instead of numbers I’m working with my fists.

Four weaves through the bags correcting stance and technique.

“Hey,” I stop him when he gets to me, “will you show me how to hold myself when I punch with my left, I’m not sure if I’m doing it right.”

His eyebrows knit together but he smirks like he’s amused. “An Erudite admitting she doesn’t know something.”

I shrug, “I’m not Erudite, I’m Dauntless now; and it’s like you said, I have to know this to survive here. So will you demonstrate it for me?”

“You’re not Dauntless yet. You’re not anything right now.” He pushes off the pillar he was leaning against. “Move.”

I step out of his way and watch his demonstration carefully.

“Now show me what I just did.” He steps away and I stand in front of the punching bag again, mimicking his movement as best I can.

“You’re right,” he says. “You are doing it wrong. Hold yourself straighter and try not to be so floppy when you move.”

I try again, tensing as I move and trying to summon the same strength that I’m able to put behind my right arm.

He taps his fingers against his chin. “Better. Keep working at it.” He walks away to critique the others.

That’s the best interaction we’ve had yet; the closest to pleasant that he’s ever bothered to be.

I keep working at that one punch until we’re dismissed for dinner. I still don’t feel like I get it, but I’ll just have to keep working at it. I still don’t like Four, but he seems to be at least a half decent teacher when he’s not threatening us.

“I’m surprised he didn’t break you in half,” Christina says to Tris in reference to Four showing her a punch earlier and rather than demonstrating, moving her into the right position himself. “He scares the hell out of me with that quiet voice he uses.”

“Yeah. He’s…” Tris looks back toward the training room. “…definitely intimidating.”

“You didn’t seem too scared,” Will says.

She shrugs, “I mean he can’t really hurt us, right? He’s responsible for us as our instructor and whatever.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Christina says. “He certainly doesn’t seem like the kind of person with scruples over hurting one of us.”

“Yeah,” Al agrees. “I thought he was going to skin Mimi alive this morning.” He whirls on me. “Why would you do something like that after he _just_ put a gun to Peter’s head.”

I shrug, “Eh, he doesn’t scare me much. It didn’t really occur to me not to correct him. And frankly,” I chuckle, “I’ve seen a whole lot worse.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t scare you, the guy looks like he could bash our skulls in!” Al says, putting his hands in his hair as if to protect his head.

“He’s just kind of annoying. I mean, we get it; he’s intimidating. He doesn’t have to be such a jackass.”

“He was just telling her to watch her mouth the other night,” Christina says.

“Yeah, that’s never worked on me before and I see no reason for it to start working now.”

Al shakes his head. “You and Tris are both nuts.”

I grin at Tris. “Maybe.”

“Maybe.” She returns my smile.

Al laces his hands together behind his head and stares up at the stone ceiling. “I think I want a tattoo.”

“A tattoo of what?” Will asks.

“I don’t know.” He laughs. “I just want to feel like I’ve actually left the old faction. Stop crying about it.” None of us say anything about how we heard him last night. He shakes his head, “You guys don’t have to be polite about it, I know you heard me.”

“Yeah, learn to quiet down.” Christina pokes Al’s arm jokingly. “I think you’re right. We’re half in, half out right now. If we want all the way in, we should look the part.”

I think of what Four said to me earlier, ‘ _You’re not Dauntless yet. You’re not anything right now_ ’ and as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. None of us look like it, we certainly don’t act like it. Everyone can tell just by looking at us that we’re transfers, which is all that we are right now. The Dauntless can probably even tell where we came from. The volume of Al and Christina’s voices, the stiff posture and measured steps that Will and I share, and how Tris seems demure and delicate when she’s not talking. Although anyone who speaks to her can plainly see that that isn’t the truth. Tris is bold, and brash, and Dauntless, so obviously meant for this place.

Christina gives Tris a look, wiggling her eyebrows and a smirk slowly spreading across her face.

“No,” Tris says. “I will not cut my hair, or dye it a strange color, or pierce my face.”

“How about your bellybutton,” Christina suggests jokingly.

Will snorts, “Or your nipple.”

Tris groans, burying her face in her hands as the rest of us laugh.

The Pit is swarming with people, the evening light shining down through the skylight and painting the whole place in hues of bright orange. I still haven’t completely gotten used to being underground all the time, to hardly seeing the sun. I have never been claustrophobic, but sometimes all the stone and the darkness give me moments where I feel like I’m suffocating as I wonder how they get air down here.

We find a directory attached to a balcony, to our left is the tattoo parlor and to the left is a series of clothing shops.

“Well,” I say, “as _appealing_ as getting a tattoo sounds,” it doesn’t sound that appealing actually, “I need clothes.”

“So do I,” Christina says as she seizes Tris’ arm. “And so does Tris. We’ll meet you boys in fifteen, or twenty.”

“Or next year,” Al says with a laugh.

Christina elbows him in the ribs quickly and then the three of us break away from them.

“What’s wrong with the clothes I have?” Tris says. “I’m not wearing gray anymore.”

“They’re ugly,” Christina says plainly. “You can do better than what fashionless

Four can provide for us.”

“Fashionless Four, I like that,” I say with a laugh.

“You two are mean,” Tris says, rolling her eyes.

“Will you just let us help you make you look good,” Christina says, pressing her hands together in a pleading gesture. “If you don’t like what Mimi and I put you in then you never have to wear it again.”

“Yeah, fine I guess,” Tris says with a sigh and another eye roll.

 

Fifteen minutes later we’re all out of the clothes we were given and dressed in ones we picked out for ourselves; or in Tris’ case, clothes that we picked for her. I wear a long sleeved black shirt that clings to my skin and hangs off my shoulders with tight pants and sneakers of the same color. Christina, Tris, and I all managed to come to an agreement on a modest, knee length dress for Tris. If we weren’t underground, than Christina would be freezing in her black crop top with sleeves that cut around her shoulders, but when I mentioned this she just shrugged and said something about dressing for the weather that you want and not the weather that you have.

“What should we do with her hair?” Christina says as we stop admiring how great the three of us look and turn our attention back to Tris, who whines when we do.

“Leave it down and let her natural beauty do its thing.”

“Says the girl that’s about to cake my face in makeup,” Tris says.

“Will you relax. I know what I’m doing.”

“If it makes you feel any better, she’ll be doing my face too,” Christina says.

“Yeah, it doesn’t.” Tris grimaces as I run the eyeshadow brush through the color that I picked but she leans away when I bring it near her face.

“For god’s sake, will you close your eyes and hold still.”

“How am I supposed to trust that you won’t stab my eye out with that thing?”

“Because I’m your best friend?” The words feel strange leaving my mouth, Tris and I only just met. We barely know each other, but it feels right; I really do like her.

She sighs and shakes her head, but closes her eyes anyways. “Yeah, fine. Just be careful please.”

“You act like I’ve never done this before.”

“Where did you even learn to do this anyways?” Christina asks as she takes a seat by the dressing rooms.

“It’s an Erudite thing. We’ve – they’ve – got it down to a science over there.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. Guess that’s why everyone’s so good looking.”

“It’s exactly why everyone’s so good looking.”

I like wearing makeup, but not nearly as much as Melanie and my parents like it. My parents have a vanity in their bedroom filled with all sorts of products. When I was younger and I didn’t really have the hang of it, but old enough to wear a little bit of makeup for fancy events, one of them would sit me down there and work with incredible precision while I watched as intently as I could. Melanie taught me how to do eyeliner properly, letting me practice on her when I felt like I was getting good at it and it’s never been as good as hers, but she has had far more practice.

“You’ve got to show me how to do this,” Christina says. “You make it look so easy.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to practice.” I gently tip Tris’ face to the side so that I can do her eyeliner more easily. When I finish she begins to open her eyes.

“No,” I say, “don’t ruin the surprise. I’m not done yet.”

“Mimi,” she whines again.

“It won’t be much longer, okay. I’m just going to fix up your complexion a little and put some lip gloss on you.”

“What’s wrong with my complexion?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I’m just making improvements. Now stop moving.”

I’m done after another five minutes I step back from her so that she can see her reflection. “And open.”

Tris stares at herself like she did in the bathroom this morning, as if she’s in a trance.

“Mimi,” she breathes.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “I look…different.”

“That’s what I was going for.” I beckon for Christina to come over as Tris continues to stare at herself.

“Sorry.” She steps away. “I’ve just never been allowed to look at myself in the mirror for this long.”

“Really?” Christina says. “Abnegation is such a strange faction.”

“Could say the same about Candor,” I reply for Tris.

Christina closes her eyes and just lets me work, after a moment Tris goes back to looking at herself. Of course I can see the differences between us; the glaring contrast between ‘ _I’ve never allowed to look in the mirror for so long_ ’ and ‘ _My parents had a vanity in their bedroom_ ’. Tris and I are very, very different but in some ways so very alike. I mean, we just get along so well and so easily. Like I said, we just met but I feel as much genuine affection for her, and Christina as well, as I did – and still do – feel for Kira, Casey, and Eliza.

I do something a little more dramatic with Christina’s makeup; winged eyeliner, maroon lipstick, glittering eyeshadow. She’s already beautiful, just like Tris, and the makeup only makes her look more amazing.

When I finish with Christina I sit cross-legged in front of the mirror to work on my own makeup while Tris and Christina gush about how good they look. It doesn’t take me nearly as long to do my own makeup, having practiced for a long time and knowing exactly how I like to look. When I’m done we all stand together in front of the mirror again.

“We’re _so_ pretty,” Christina says. “Will and Al should be jealous.”

Tris and I snicker.

“Yeah,” Tris agrees. “I think this is the best I’ve looked in my entire life.”

“Oh please.” I roll my eyes. “You’re already striking even without all the improvements Christina and I made.”

Tris stares at me with a soft smile and a pink blush rising to her cheeks. “Thanks. Um, no one’s ever really said that before. That’s another first I guess.”

“Ladies,” Christina says, “should we pay for all of this and let the boys bask in our radiance?”

Tris and I laugh again.

“Sure.”

Dauntless pay for things in their own faction in points that everyone is allotted a certain amount of each month. As initiates we already have accounts set up and put together my outfit and makeup are three and a half of those points.

Tris also gets a set of hair care things that she offers to share with the three of us. We walk down to the tattoo parlor sharing laughs and compliments. Inside, Al is already in the chair and there’s a thin man with an even thinner goatee drawing some sort of design on his arm. Will flips through a book and that’s where Christina and I join him. Tris wanders off to go look at something else and Will looks up as we approach.

“Wow,” Will says, his eyes growing wide. “I mean, um, wow. You two look nice.”

“That was the reaction we were hoping for,” Christina says with a smirk. “Right, Mimi?”

“Exactly right.” I return her smirk. “So what have you been looking at?”

The two of us lean against the table on either side of him to get a better look at the book he’s flipping through.

“Everything, but nothing so far.”

“What about that one.” Christina points to the very detailed, almost three dimensional spider. She snickers and says, “Put it like right on your hand or something.”

“Yes, Christina,” Will drawls. “Let me just get a huge fuck off spider inked onto the skin of my hand forever. That sounds like a great idea.”

“Maybe they should just put jerk across your forehead so that people know what they’re getting into _before_ you open your mouth,” she retorts.

“If we’re talking about honest tattoos then maybe you should get one that says loudmouth,” I say with a laugh.

“Says the chronic smart ass!” Christina exclaims with feigned indigence.

“Eh.” I shrug. “I’m not going to pretend that’s not true.”

Will hums in agreement.

“But I’m not nearly as bad as Will,” I add on with a grin.

“Rude!” he exclaims, pressing a hand to his heart like I’ve wounded him. “Here I was innocently looking for a suitable tattoo when I am so mercilessly teased for no reason!”

Tris has picked out a tattoo to get, much to my surprise. Although, I guess she never did say that she wouldn’t

Christina, Will, and I don’t wind up picking out anything to get. None of us could decide on what we wanted. So instead we just sat around talking while we waiting for Tris and Al to get theirs done. Though I did see a few I marked down in my mind, designs I wouldn’t mind getting if I were ever interested I guess.

While we’re waiting for the, I admire all the art on the walls. Every faction has its own unique ways of expressing itself, things that are all their own and associated with them by default. Dauntless is known for their wild, almost incomprehensible art and their skill with tattoos. I guess that’s obvious. I have been to art museums in City Center, the ones that feature art from every faction but Abnegation; but I can very plainly see that the real wonders of Dauntless aren’t the things that make it into the museums. I mean the artwork there is beautiful, but the art on these walls is far more quintessentially Dauntless that what hangs on those walls. It’s loud, and abstract, and foreign, and beautiful. Just like almost everything I have encountered in Dauntless so far.


	9. Trading Your Life For A Dream

_September 4 th Year 499,_

_Okay, so I chose Dauntless. That happened. It wasn’t on a whim; it wasn’t a split second decision. I mean I feel like I put a lot of thought into my actions before I dropped my blood on the coals. I weighed my options and I stood on that stage for an embarrassingly long time, but in the end I settled here. I do feel like I made the right choice, sort of. I mean, I guess I’ll find out as I get deeper into initiation. Now that I’m here I’m starting to realize that there’s more to choosing a faction than just passing initiation; it’s also about becoming what you chose to be. I can’t just scrape by, I have to fully embrace Dauntless for all that it is and all that I can do here. I chose Dauntless for a reason, and well I’m only a little bit sure of that reason. Sometimes it makes perfect sense and then sometimes it just feels like what I did was crazy. Part of me really is the Erudite girl who feels like she’s throwing her life away to pursue some useless dream. I mean, I’m sure I could have accomplished great things in Erudite if I had stayed but in the end that wasn’t what I wanted. I can’t be the person that everyone had always been telling me I was. I can’t be the person that my parents wanted me to be because that isn’t me. Any chance of me being that girl went out the window when I found out that I’m Divergent. I’m not Erudite, I can’t be Erudite; but I’m not Dauntless either. I’m just faking being it and I guess that I’ll just have to keep faking it for the rest of my life. I love it here, but I’m not like Will, or Christina, or Tris. I’m not purely Dauntless; they belong here and I don’t. But I might be able to, someday if I try hard enough maybe there might come a time when being like all of the people that now surround me comes as naturally as breathing. I’ll fit right in just like I did in Erudite, maybe even better. I’ll be happy here, I just know that I will and if I’m not happy now then I will keep trying. I chose Dauntless for a reason and maybe I’m not totally clear on what that reason is all the time; maybe I’m just as confused as everyone else, but I still have to work with what I have._

 

I shut my notebook with a sigh. It’s still early in the morning, someone else got up before me and turned the lights on but pretty much everyone is still asleep. I fell asleep a long time after lights out for no other reason than I was just up to late thinking about what’s happened over the past forty-eight hours. I’m still not entirely used to the lights being turned out at nine-thirty or not being able to see anything without the lights on. Being underground is so weird to me, though I’m sure that after a few weeks it won’t be quite so strange to me. The room is absolutely freezing early in the morning and this particular morning I don’t want to get up. My arms are terribly sore, but I know that Four will be in with our wakeup call soon. Wanting to avoid the noise, I grab a change of uniform and make my way to the bathroom.

I don’t even bother with standing up in the shower. I’m too tired and I would give anything just to sleep the day away. But as my eyes are closing again the door hits he wall with a bang.

“I swear the noise was quieter yesterday,” Christina says. “If I didn’t know better I would say that he was _trying_ to make us miserable.”

“He might be,” I respond.

Christina screams and so does someone else who I assume was Tris.

“God, Mimi!” She exclaims. “I had no idea you were in here!”

“Who else would it be? Molly?”

“…fair point.”

I don’t remain in the shower for very long after that; wringing out my hair and then sticking my arm out to blindly fumble for my clothes.

“Here you go.” Tris hands me the pile.

After I’m dressed I stand in front of the long mirror with them and run the comb that Tris got yesterday through my hair.

“So, what do you think is on the menu for today?” Christina says. “More running and target practice with a side of belittling?”

“Don’t forget the punching, that’s the most important part of being Dauntless, right?” Tris says with a snicker as she ties her hair into our ponytail.

“Mhm,” I agree. “Who do you think will get a gun to their head today?”

“You with the way that you talk back to him,” Tris says.

I shrug, “If he doesn’t want people to be dicks to him then he shouldn’t be a dick.”

“You’ve got a point there,” Christina says.

I unzip my new makeup bag and begin to run the brush through the soft pink eyeshadow.

“Seriously?” Tris raises her eyebrows. “You’re just going to training, why do you need makeup?”

“I don’t need it. It just feels good; it’s been a part of my daily routine for so long now that it feels more unnatural when I don’t do it.”

“Oh. Why?”

“To look good is to feel good, Tris.” It’s a phrase that I picked up from my father a long time ago when I asked him why he put so much work into his makeup.

Tris chuckles, “If you say so.”

We walk to breakfast together, with Will and Al joining us at the table only a few minutes later.

“I don’t think I’ll ever-” Al cuts himself off with a yawn, “get used to this early wakeup call. ‘S terrible.”

Will and I share a look across the table that Christina notices and rolls her eyes.

“And what time did you two start class in the morning?” she asks with a smirk.

“Six,” I say.

“Five forty-five,” Will says.

“Overachiever.” He smirks at me in response.

“Wait, what?” Tris says. “You started class at what time?”

“Erudite take extracurricular classes in the mornings and afternoons, it’s what gives us – er, them – their academic edge.”

“Technically they’re open to everyone,” I say, “but no one else ever really shows up.”

“No one wants to sit through a six am lecture,” Christina says. “Unless of course, you’re Erudite.”

“It wasn’t all lectures,” I say. “I did orchestra on Mondays and Fridays.”

“You play an instrument?” Al says, looking far more interested.

“Cello.”

“Ooh, you should play for us sometime.” Christina presses her hands together in delight.

“If you can find me a cello in Dauntless then I absolutely will.”

“I had an extra science class and extra math on alternating days,” Will says.

“I also had government on Tuesdays and Thurdays but I had a sister who took hand to hand in the mornings.”

“Oh damn, one of _those_ Erudite,” Will says with a chuckle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I put a hand on my hip and take a long sip of my coffee.

“The active ones, the ones who could kick my ass up and down the block. You know; gymnasts, and fighters, and track stars, and whatever. Edward was one of those Erudite, he’s been studying hand to hand combat since we were ten.”

“Well that explains a lot,” Al says.

“No,” Will gives him a deadpan look, “he’s just ben using witchcraft to be that good. No prior experience whatsoever.”

Al rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to be such a dick about it, Dude.”

“I am not,” he says indignantly.

“Yes, you are,” Tris and Christina say in unison.

He glances at me and I shrug. “Cultural difference I guess.” I didn’t think he was being all that rude. My old friends and I argued like that all the time, it was just how people interacted in Erudite.

“Erudite are weird,” Tris says with a shake of her head.

“Mhm,” I agree sarcastically. “We’re the weird ones, Miss ‘doesn’t know what a hamburger is’; doesn’t really know what anything is for that matter.”

She frowns and pokes at her breakfast, she no longer looks so happy.

“Hey,” I say, putting my hand on her forearm. “You know that we’re just giving you shit, right? We don’t actually hold any of that against you.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “I thought that was obvious.”

“No,” Tris says, “I get it, I guess it is kind of funny. I guess I’m just not used to people, uh, insulting each other for fun.”

And the look on her face makes me feel bad, makes me feel callous. I’ve never interacted with anyone who doesn’t get the way that I interact with people. Even Casey and I are prone to giving each other a bit of a gentle ribbing. But Tris is soft and quiet, gentle and still Abnegation in some ways because it’s a hard transition. She’s trying hard to shake her old factions habit just like I am and our birth factions are enemies, our parents are enemies; it’s like we’re speaking two different languages.

“I’m sorry.”

She looks up from her food at me. “What? No, no it’s not…it’s nothing.”

“That’s not true. I mean, we weren’t really raised around the same humor. Different factions and all.”

“I mean, Abnegation has no humor so I barely understand any of your jokes.” She flashes me a grin.

Christina laughs, “That was good, and…really true.”

“Oh believe me,” Tris says, “I know.”

 

Four does not walk us from the dining hall to the training room, instead we find our own way and that’s why we’re all ten minutes late. Four is waiting for us very impatiently. He says nothing as the ten of us arrive; just sighs through his nose and shakes his head, gesturing for us to begin our laps.

“Are you wearing eyeliner?” Christina squints at Will’s face as we run.

“Yeah, I do every day. Although I must say that the pens here aren’t as the one I used to use.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” I say.

“Wait,” Tris says slowing down to fall in with the three of us. “Do you seriously wear makeup all the time?”

“Didn’t we go over this in the bathroom this morning?” I say.

She shrugs, “Fair enough.”

“Pick up the pace you four!” Four calls to us.

Tris takes off ahead of us and Christina, Will, and I split up by a few feet as we run faster. Christina is faster than me, her stride length allowing her to catch up and pass Tris and I hear the annoyed noise she makes as tries to keep up with her. But that’s a bit difficult for when every one step Christina takes Tris has to take two.

“I’ll race you,” Will says, catching up to me.

“We’re not going to catch Tris and Christina.”

“Who said anything about Tris and Christina? On three?”

“You guys racing?”  Al joins up with us, looking a little winded.

“Want to join?” Will asks.

“Sure, yep that sounds great.” His breath wheezes.

“Go,” Will says and we all try to speed up.

I have never been the fastest runner around, or even the second fastest. It’s not something that I really enjoy, but I’m faster than most people expect me to be and that’s why out of the three of us I arrive first, gasping for breath and grinning. Tris and Christina are already waiting along with Peter, Edward, and some of the others. Molly, Al, Will, and Myra run like a small pack, Will and Al attempting to outpace each other.

“Okay,” Four says when we’re all finished with our laps. “We’re starting with fighting and we’ll get to target practice after lunch. Get to it.”

At about ten, Eric walks into the training room and about half the initiates freeze for a second. Eric strikes up a conversation with Four as her watches up before he takes to pacing around, weaving in and out of the pillars and examining each of us with a critical eye.

“Aren’t these a sorry looking bunch,” he says to Four. “Have you ever seen a group of more pathetic looking initiates? Max must be lowering his standards if even the Stiff was able to make it through. Bet she won’t last long though.”

Tris grimaces but says nothing and hits the bag harder than she was before.

“You remember our days in their shoes right, Mighty Four? Tiny and bright eyed, ready to take on the world.”

Four rolls his eyes. “I remember not having nearly as many irritating initiates as we do this year. Not to say that there weren’t any.”

Eric chuckles. “Right you are. So these are the problem students.”

“Some of them.”

He pauses at some students, observing them; Edward, Peter, Tris, me. He is standing and watching me. I don’t turn to look at him, I keep practicing as though he never appeared in the first place.

“Second jumper,” he says, looking me over. “You know, I swear that I know you from somewhere.”

I don’t respond, I continue to refuse to even look at him. I can’t get distracted now and I certainly don’t want to irritate Four. I don’t like the guy, but I would rather not incur his wrath any more than I already have.

“I’m talking to you, Blondie,” Eric says, his voice laced with annoyance

I turn to face him, clasping my hands together in front of me. “Yes? Is there something I can help you with?”

I’ve decided that I don’t like Eric, but I know that If I’m ever to get ahead in Dauntless I have to be nice to him.

“You know, there are those that would say that second place is just first loser.”

“Mm.” I glance at Tris out of the corner of my eye, she is watching the exchange as she trains and our eyes meet.

“Are you always so quiet?”

“She’s definitely not,” Four appears from the pillar to the other side of me.

Eric snorts. “Blondie’s one of your problem students? She looks like someone who whines about breaking a nail.”

“You’d be surprised.”

If I could glare at either of them I definitely would. Instead I laugh politely as if they said something funny. Eric gets a look on his face for a second, but it’s vanished before I can think too much about what it might mean.

“Eric, if you could let my initiate get back to work. I have to go make sure the others aren’t getting into trouble.”

“You can literally see all of us from where your standing,” Christina interrupts.

Four glowers and rolls his eyes.

“Another one of your problem students?” Eric says with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

“You have no idea.” Four stalks away.

I go back to hitting the punching bag, trying to ignore Eric again in hopes that he will leave me alone to practice.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name, Blondie,” Eric says. He does know my name, Four told him what it was the night I arrived; it seems now I have two assholes flatly refusing to learn my name. “But I do think I know you from somewhere.”

I bury my annoyance further. “Mimi, nice to meet you.”

“Mimi,” he repeats, drawing out both syllables in a way that makes me bristle. “Interesting.”

I clench my jaw like the things I want to say could slip between the top and bottom rows of my teeth. Instead I hit the bag harder. The hairs that come loose from my braid are stuck to my forehead and the back of my neck with sweat but I don’t stop. I can feel him continuing to watch me.

He clicks his tongue. “Interesting. Guess I’ll just have to keep my eye on you and see how much of a problem student you really are.” He walks away to go torment some other poor soul.

Four might just have some competition for who can make me loathe them the most within five minutes of opening his mouth. How lovely.

 

“Malachite,” Edward sidles up to me on my way to lunch, stepping directly in front of Tris, causing her to stumble and glare at him so bitterly he might just spontaneously combust.

“Yes,” I reply, “that is my last name.”

“You’ve got a pretty powerful family then.”

“If you’re looking for favors then allow me to shatter you dreams right now.”

“Funny,” he says in a flat voice. “Not looking for favors, just a friend in all of this insanity. I’m Edward.”

“I know. I’m Mimi.”

He smirks, “I know.”

“Mimi, hey.” Will appears at my other side. “Hello, Edward.” He seems suddenly irritated.

“Will, hello, I was just talking to Mimi here, we Erudite have got to stick together.”

“Yeah, hi.” Christina catches up to us, walking quickly to keep pace with us. “We’re all Dauntless now and the sooner we put aside all our old faction stuff the better.”

Edward grimaces and rolls his eyes. “Sure thing, Candor.”

Christina glares at him as Will and I share a look, not quite a grimace but not a smile either.

“Let’s go,” Christina says as we enter the dining hall. To emphasize her point she reaches around Edward to grab my arm and pull me away after her.

“What was that?” Tris says when the three of us sit down.

“That was Edward.” Will rolls his eyes. “Told you he was an asshole.”

“I’ve met my fair share of uppity Erudite,” I say. “I just didn’t think that the guy who was so obviously Dauntless would be one of them.”

“You’re pretty uppity yourself, Mimi,” Al says with a chuckle.

“The fact that you even use that word is pretty damning evidence.” Christina laughs with him.

“Yeah but I’m not-” Will and I share that look of mutual exasperation. “–like that.”

“I warned you, Mimi, I really did,” Will says. “I’m shocked that he didn’t take the opportunity to brag about his little hobby.”

“I think he has plenty of opportunity to show off to Myra,” Christina says with a snort. “Four looked like he was about to have a coronary if they got any more cuddly.”

“I’m surprised that he didn’t attempt to shove them apart,” Tris jokes.

“Wow.” Will raises his eyebrows. “No comments about how inappropriate that is?”

Tris rolls her eyes, “Shut up.”

“Oh and no bread to throw at me this time?” Will turns to Christina. “Must be my lucky day.”

“Don’t think I’m above flinging these potatoes at you,” she says with a mischievous pointed look.

“I’d like to see you try,” Will flashes her a grin but when Christina scoops some of her mashed potatoes onto her spoon and turns toward Will his smile drops.

“Not the face.” He covers his face with his arm, drawing laughter from the rest of us.

“Not so tough now are you?” Christina gives him an impish grin.

Will makes various scoffing sounds until he finally just rolls his eyes, which makes the rest of us laugh even harder.

 

After lunch we go back to target practice, which is largely uneventful. Eric doesn’t even bother to show up to harass us.

I don’t actually know that much about Eric. I mean, I’ve never bothered to pay very close attention to Dauntless’ leadership before. I’m vaguely aware that they have more than just the leader and representative for some reason, some old tradition, something historical. Make no mistake, I did pay attention in Faction History but I just never saw a reason to care about Dauntless very much until now. I’m starting to regret that, there’s a lot that I might be missing simply because I never found it important.

I had a similar problem in government class; I know the names of every Erudite department head, but I can’t for the life of me recall the names of the other three Dauntless leaders. I can’t even name all the people on the Abnegation Council. I know that I’ll have to if I ever want to get into politics, my mother knows the names of everyone who’s anyone plus the names of their family and some friends. It shows people that you care even if you don’t. As a Dauntless citizen it is my responsibility to care, as the daughter of a faction leader it was my responsibility to care about Erudite’s most important. I’m sure that Tris grew up in a similar situation, as the child of one of only three other Faction Council members that have children. Though, perhaps not entirely similar. I would never have said what she said to Jeanine, or any faction leader. It wasn’t awful, not as awful as I thought it was at the time anyways. It was plenty surprising though. I am not sure what I expected out of her; I guess just another demure and quiet Abnegation girl, the perfect embodiment of Abnegation’s teachings because that is what she has been raised to be just as I was with Erudite. I suppose her Dauntlessness was inherent and uncontrollable; in retrospect it is actually rather funny.

 

By the time we’re dismissed for dinner, I’m so hungry I feel like I never ate lunch at all. All I want to do is eat and then sleep; possibly forever, I haven’t decided. My arms hurt the worst out of everything and my hands are bleeding. I have a feeling that I’m just going to have to get used to that. My days of soft hands and perfect nails are over; the same goes for my perfect hair. I think that might just be the one thing I’ll miss about Erudite that doesn’t have anything to do with my family.

“Okay,” Christina says as we sit down. “So, not to be like a ‘Bad Transfer’ or anything, but does anyone else really miss their old faction?”

Al buries his face into his hands, quietly screaming into them. “Yes.”

“More than I have any right to because I was the one who wanted to leave in the first place,” Will says.

I nod. “I mean, like, I don’t really miss all the pressure to be something I’m not, but like everything else I mean.”

“I would kill someone for a manicure and some literature,” Will says. “No joke.”

I laugh. “I want my laptop.”

“I want my mom,” Al says and we all laugh even though I’m sure we all know the feeling.

“Tris?” Christina cocks her head at the one person who’s been strangely quiet this whole time.

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“I love Dauntless,” Christina says. “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me and whatever, but I really miss my dad’s cooking. That was just, like, a thing that was really great even when nothing else was.”

“The twenty-four-hour coffee houses down by Erudite tower were the shit,” I say. “It was my lifeblood.” I have so many fond memories in those little coffee houses, at least one with everyone I knew. When school was on break, my friends and I would stay there for hours talking, playing the games that they had there, and watching the foot traffic pass outside the window that didn’t even begin to slow until after midnight. My siblings and I spent a lot of time there too, it was the one thing that we could all agree on to do. I used to wait there to be picked up after school when I was much younger, when my siblings and I all walked together and I always got there first because my school was the closest.

“Don’t I know it,” Will says. “I used to live by one and that was where I would hang out with my friends until, like…for a long time, okay. I woke up in the middle of the night last night and I’ve never been so bored in my entire life. And I sat through Professor Vaughn’s government class.”

I snicker. “Must’ve sucked to be you; I had Dr. Kalique.”

“I didn’t even know Dr. Kalique taught government. Isn’t her doctorate in psychology?”

“No offence,” Al says, “not to be ‘Too Candor’, or whatever, but what the _fuck_ are you two talking about?”

Christina starts laughing as he finishes his sentence. “Thanks, Al.” She turns toward Will and I. “What? Someone has to keep you two coherent.”

“Did you guys never take government?” I raise my eyebrow.

“I didn’t have electives,” Tris says.

“Of course you didn’t.” Christina rolls her eyes. “I took home ec and then art, much to the disappointment of my parents.”

“Why would I want to sit through an entire class about how much the faction leaders hate each other and always have?” Al says. “I got enough of that from history.”

“Because it’s fascinating,” I say, though I say it as more of a question than a statement.

“Not when you’re in Professor Vaughn’s class.” Will sighs. “Every day was just a fight to stay awake.”

“And on that note, who’s ready for those actual fights?” Christina says tiredly.

“Not me,” Al says in exactly the same tone. “I’m gonna get my ass kicked.”

“Well, in theory none of us have a chance of winning,” Will says.

“Oh that’s reassuring,” Christina scoffs.

“Wait,” Will says, holding up his pointer fingers in sort of a ‘pause’ gesture. “But, we’re exactly half the transfer class and I don’t possibly think we can _all_ get our asses kicked.”

“Yeah unfortunately, you can’t Erudite your way out of this one,” Christina says. “All the brains in the world are not going to stop you from getting punched in that big mouth of yours.”

“Did you just use a proper noun as a verb?” Will says.

“Will, with the priorities here,” Al says, rolling his eyes.

He huffs. “Can I go five minutes without someone mocking everything that I say, please?”

“Don’t make it so easy then,” Christina and I say at the same time and then share a laugh.

Will pouts. “You guys are the worst and I hope that I’m assigned to fight one of you.”

“Careful,” I warn with a laugh. “I just might, as you said, kick your ass up and down the block.”

As the rest of the table breaks into laughter, Wil grumbles. “At least I know that you’re listening when I say things. That’s something.”

“All so I can use it against you later.” I smirk at him.

“See.” He gestures to me and shoves my shoulder gently. “This is what I’m talking about. Terrible.” He shakes his head and almost falls out of his chair when I shove him back.

We spend the rest of dinner talking about really nothing. The heaviness of missing home vanishes as quickly as it came. I know that I said would only miss my family and maybe the luxury, but I’m really starting to think that it’s more than that. Whether I was really suited to be there or not, I can’t deny that it was my home for the first sixteen years of my life and to a degree it will always be my home.

Sitting here, I think about Gwendolyn again just like I did at the Choosing Ceremony. Everywhere I go might be somewhere that Victoria and Gwendolyn might have once adored. They were born here, their family lived here once. They once had roots here. I wonder if Gwendolyn always knew that her life in Dauntless wouldn’t last, if leaving was just something that she knew was always going to happen. It is sort of hard to believe that Gwendolyn might have ever thought that she belonged here. She’s just not Dauntless in any way that I’ve ever encountered; she’s quiet and reserved, doesn’t exactly strike me as the sort of person to collect an array of body modifications. She’s like Kira, she just seems to belong in Erudite. Maybe she would disagree, I wouldn’t know because she never talks about it.

For all of the family that have in other factions or that were born in other factions, I sure don’t know a whole lot about those other factions.

Though I’m sure that I would be laughed out of Dauntless for saying this aloud, transferring here is a learning experience. It’s a lesson in becoming something beyond what I have always been taught to be. Perhaps, in some respects, that is what it will always be.

 

_September 4_ _ th _ _, Year 499_

_I’ve never limited myself to one entry a day before and I see no reason to start now, and it has been a rather interesting day._

_For starters, I met the Dauntless rep up close and personal for the first time. I know that if I ever want to get ahead then I’m going to have to just swallow my pride and kiss up to him, but he’s repugnant. He’s got an even shitter attitude than Four and he’s already testing my rather considerable patience. I don’t know what their deals are, but neither of them want to use my name for some reason. Four’s whole ‘I’ll learn your name when it’s worth my time,’ whatever is bullshit to the highest degree. He’s only got ten initiates; I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t know it. Eric obviously has his own thing going on, both with Four and in general. He just seems to have this predisposition to act like an asshole to everyone that he comes in contact with. It makes me wonder how he ever came to be faction rep in the first place, his entire job is to present the best possible image that he possibly can. Although, I suppose Dauntless’ little PR problem isn’t caused by nothing._

_Oh well, I guess; it’s nothing, I suppose. It doesn’t matter, because I will do whatever it takes to get to where I want to be in life. I still want to live up to my family’s legacy, that is the one thing that hasn’t changed. I will always want to make them proud, and I can still do that in Dauntless. I have to still do that in Dauntless._

_It can be done, I think. I mean, Mark did it in Amity and Minerva did it in Candor. The deck’s a little stacked against me in Dauntless; given that my family probably think of my choice as a total disgrace and I’ve got no clue what in the hell I’m supposed to do, not to mention my horrific instructor and terrible odds of passing…_

_Oh god._

_No. No. Failure isn’t an option for me; not even remotely. To fail is to lose everything, to fail is the end of my life and not just as I know it. I don’t think that I could survive being factionless, as in I really do think that it would literally kill me. Factionless life isn’t something that anyone survives; it’s just something that everyone wastes away in and then dies because of. It’s just a matter of how long your miserable existence continues to drag on for. Already, two Dauntless initiates have become factionless that I know of. There was an Erudite boy behind me that couldn’t keep up with the train to jump on and an Amity boy that never jumped off. I don’t think that I will ever know what happened to them. I suppose that I shouldn’t even care; it’s none of my business. But I do. I care because I’ve never seen anyone wash out that quickly. Erudite is hard, but it’s not like this. This is cruel. Or Dauntless. Maybe both. But this is the life that I chose, this is what I wanted for myself. Maybe when I left Erudite it was for an idealized version of Dauntless, a picture that I had painted in my head of this perfect faction that doesn’t actually exist. I really didn’t know what I was getting into when I chose Dauntless and now I’m in way over my head, but so is everyone else. We all transferred in without any inkling of what would be thrown at us. We all literally took a leap of faith for no other reason than that we really do believe that bravery is worth risking everything for. That risking everything is bravery. We’re all here because we believe in bravery, because we are brave, because we want to be brave. It is our singular commonality._

_But I don’t belong, not just here. I wasn’t born Dauntless or born to be Dauntless. Part of me will always be Erudite, it’s been stitched into the fabric of my personality in an inextricable sort of way that will forever keep me from really being Dauntless. I can’t just leave it all behind, I don’t see how anyone could just sever themselves from the first sixteen years of their life without a problem. I can’t tell if that’s just because I’m too attached to my family and too weak to let go, or if it’s because of…that._

_God, I can’t even write the word. The thought alone makes me more uneasy and paranoid than I already am. I would say that it’s because I don’t want to risk anyone finding out by reading this, but I think I’ve danced around the issue long enough that it’s pretty damn obvious. The truth is that it’s just because I’m uncomfortable with it. It’s bad enough that I have to be that, using the term just makes it so much more real in a way that I absolutely cannot stand. If I just pretend like it’s nothing, like it’s not happening to me, like it’s something sort of weird but not that bad, then I never have to think too deeply about the fact that existing as it alone could get me into serious trouble and that it divides me from everyone else in a way that I can’t control. It hurts. I don’t know why, but it hurts._

_I’m never going to be like my family, I’m never going to be like my friends; I’m just stuck the way that I am and I’m not sure what the consequences are for being like this, but Maria made them sound pretty damn dire. I’ve got an imagination; I can dream up the different things that could come of anyone finding this out, though I suppose the most obvious answer is expulsion. Should anyone take notice of what I am I could be thrown out of Dauntless and then we circle right back around to the whole thing about factionlessness. About how no one survives it. But I don’t know how to hide it; I don’t know how to act Dauntless. I’m not quite sure how to be loud, rowdy, and reckless like all the Dauntless members are. Unlike with everyone else, for me it might not come with immersion. I might never develop that personality type because I psychologically cannot. I’m wired for Erudite, at least in some regards; what those regards are I have yet to figure out. It’s hard to tell what’s just the way that I was raised and what is my Erudite brain._

_I don’t even like to think about what might be Amity. I don’t even know how to be Amity let alone what’s supposed to come naturally to someone who is Amity. Like my brother, I guess. I mean, I’m nice and all; but that’s just because I don’t see why I wouldn’t be nice unless given a reason not to me. Is that what ‘being Amity’ is supposed to be? No, I don’t think so. That’s just being polite. So I guess it’s like my brother. But I’ve never really thought of Mark and I as being that similar for a multitude of reasons. Guess that’s the other stuff as opposed to Mark being actually normal._

_I shouldn’t waste my time thinking about all of this. I should be focused on initiation, on trying to climb the ranks. I should focus on my friends and my training._

_Should being the operative word there._

 

“Lights out.” Four sticks his head through the doorway and then his arm to turn off the lights. Guess that’s where I’ll have to leave off my entry. I suppose that’s for the best; no sense it getting more wrapped up in my own thoughts than I already am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. I've been kinda lazy lately and haven't been able to write at all. Hopefully it won't last.


	10. Round One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything goes very badly, very quickly.

Monday comes far too quickly and from the moment we step into the training room things are different. The mat that used to be folded up near the wall is now laid out in the center of the floor where there used to only be concrete.

Though the morning and lunch both pass without incident, I know that once we step back into the training room things are going to become significantly less void of incident. Eric has been hanging around training more and more, which is enough to make me uneasy; but he seems especially giddy as we all stream back in from lunch.

“Maybe someone’ll vomit on the mat,” I hear him stage whisper to Four, anticipation dripping from his words.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun to clean up.” Four rolls his eyes.

“Your problem, not mine.” Eric pats his shoulder pseudo-affectionately and Four looks like he wants to break his hand.

A whiteboard has been rolled in on off to the side of the mat and that’s where all the matches are displayed. Before I can even find my name, Tris and Christina distract me.

“Ow!” Tris exclaims as Christina elbows her.

“Sorry,” she says. “But look, I’m up against the tank.”

“The Tank?” Tris asks.

My interest piqued, I find Christina’s name on the board; she’s matched up against Molly, the Candor girl who looks like she could crush my skull with her bare hands. Thus the nickname I guess.

“Yeah. Peter’s slightly more feminine looking minion.” She nods her head over to where Peter, Molly, and the other Candor boy – whom I have dubbed carrot hair until I learn his name – stand talking.

“Those three,” Christina moves her finger back and forth between them, “have been inseparable since they crawled out of the womb, practically. I hate them.”

“Al,” Will punches him gently in the shoulder, “I wish you luck, buddy.” The two of them have been matched against each other.

Al rubs his shoulder. “Thanks. Ow.”

My name is at the bottom of the board, I’ve been put up against Edward. So that’s great, you know because he’s been studying hand to hand forever. That will go well for me.

I’m brought back to thinking about Minerva again, how easily it came to her. When she tried to show me some things I was young and all but hopeless, but she was amazing. It never really occurred to me that I might be like her someday, like with Mark, we don’t exactly have a lot of similarities.

Dammit. I was really looking forward to winning my first fight. Guess I’ll just have to look forward to winning my second fight, because I’m sure as hell not going to win this one.

“Al and Will!” Four calls. “Let’s go.”

“Wish me luck?” Will says as he starts to walk away from us.

“Hope you lose,” I say.

“Kick him in the dick, Al! For me!” Christina yells and Al buries his face in his hands.

“Why do I even bother?” Will shakes his head.

“Good luck, both of you,” Tris amends for both of us.

The two of them stand across from each other on the mat and put their hands up to protect themselves just like how Four taught us. They shuffle in circles along each other and take jabs that barely glance off. Al is at least half a foot taller than Will and broad. He seems to have gotten the hang of Four’s teaching just like the rest of us, as much of dick as Four is I can’t argue with the fact that he’s a good teacher, but Al lacks the finesse that Will has.

“So what’s wrong with them?” Tris says, still looking at Peter and his friends.

“Peter is pure evil. When we were kids, he would pick fights with kids in other factions and then cry and say that they started it what an adult came to break it up; and because he was Candor, of course everyone believed him.” She wrinkles her nose. “Drew is essentially his sidekick. I seriously doubt that he has a single independent thought in his head.” So that’s Carrot Hair’s name. I don’t care all that much, but I suppose that it saves me a moment of embarrassment should I ever have to address him. “And Molly…she’s the kind of person who fries ants with a magnifying glass just to watch them flail around.”

Back on the mat, Al punches Will hard in the jaw so hard that it turns his head and I wince as do Tris and, weirdly enough, Al. Eric smirks at Al as he plays with one of the rings in his eyebrows.

Will stumbles back, one hand pressed to the side of his face and blocks Al’s next blow with his arm, though from the look that he gives it’s just as painful. Al is strong, but slow and Will takes advantage of that. He weaves around Al, until he’s just inside his guard and then jabs his fingers into Al’s solar plexus, before backing out of Al’s reach again. Al wheezes, but presses forward.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Peter and his friends putting their heads close together and whispering, casting furtive glances in our direction every so often.

“I think that they know we’re talking about them,” Tris says.

Christina shrugs. “So? They already know I hate them.”

“They do? How?”

“Because I’ve told them.” Christina flashes a saccharine smile at them and waves.

Will hooks his foot around one of Al’s legs and yanks him to the ground with a loud _thud_. Al scrambles to his feet as Will once again bounces back far away from his reach.

“We try to be pretty honest about our feelings in Candor,” Christina says, drawing my attention back to her. “Plenty of people have told me that like me and plenty have told me that they do. It’s no big deal.”

“We just…weren’t supposed to hurt people,” Tris says, “back in Abnegation.

“I like to think that I’m helping them by hating them,” she says. “I’m reminding them that they aren’t god’s gift to humanity.”

“I had a few Erudite classmates who could have used that particular kind of help,” I say with a chuckle as Dahlia surfaces in mind for the first time in a while. I know that it may seem like I pick on her specifically a little too often, but she’s a bitch to everyone and anyone she comes across that is not an adult or someone that she thinks she can use to get ahead. I very specifically remember her being nice as pie to me right up until the moment that I befriended Casey and Eliza, two people whom she deemed unworthy of even the most basic kindness.

As the fight drags on, Will and Al become more hesitant than they were before. They’re becoming worn down, not to mention that they’re friends and not at all interested in hurting each other too badly. Will flips his brown hair away from his eyes. They both glance at Four but he gives no response to their stares. Beside him, Eric checks his watch and fake yawns.

After a few more seconds of circling, Eric seems to grow sick of the lack of action and shouts, “Do you think this is a leisure activity?! Should we break for naptime?! Fight each other!”

“But,” Al straightens and drops his hands, “is the fight scored or something? How do we know when to stop?”

“You’ll stop when one of you can’t continue,” Eric says.

“Or until one of you concedes,” Four says.

“According to the old rules,” Eric corrects him. “In the new rules, no one concedes.”

“You really wanna break them on their first fight?”

“A brave man never surrenders.”

“A brave man acknowledges the strength of others.”

“No concessions,” Eric repeats.

“Lucky for you,” Four turns his head away from him. “those weren’t the rules when we fought.”

Eric’s eyes darken and his jaw clenches. He doesn’t have to say anything for us to know which one of them to listen to. Eric is a Dauntless leader, he has the authority. Therefore, concession is not an option.

Will and Al take up their fighting stances again; Al keeps his feet firmly planted as if he is made of stone while Will bounces back from foot to foot. Though it’s true that Al could knock Will out with one good shot to the head, his victory is entirely dependent on whether or not he can actually hit Will, who seems to have taken up the strategy of hitting once and then moving back out of range as fast as possible.

Will dodges yet another one of Al’s punches and quickly moves around behind him and kicks him hard in the back. Al grunts and stumbles forward, but manages to stay on his feet. Al whips around and charges at Will, latching onto his arm so that he can’t move away this time and then punches Will hard in the jaw while his hands are occupied trying to free himself.

Will’s pale green eyes roll back into his head and he crumples to the ground. It nauseates me and I lean back against the cement pillar, unable to tear my gaze from him.

“God,” Christina whispers.

Al’s eyes widen and he falls to his knees next to Will. He taps his cheek with one finger and the room falls dead silent as we wait for him to respond. For a few seconds, he just continues to lie on the ground with one arm bent beneath him at an odd angle. Then he sucks in a large breath of air and groans, bringing his arm out from beneath him and putting it over his eyes. He mumbles incoherently at Al and Al mutters back, clearing the hair from Will’s face.

“Get him up,” Eric says. He stares at Will as though he’s a meal and Eric’s half-starved.

Four circles Al’s name on the whiteboard to show that he won.

Al wraps his arm behind Will beneath his arms and helps Will get to his feet.

“I’ll help.” I begin to walk forward to them.

“You’ll stay right here, Blondie,” Eric says. “You’re up next.”

Four instead walks over to Will and wraps his arm around his waist. “I’ve got him,” he says to Al.

Al lingers in his place for a moment as Four helps Will toward the door, watching them go.

“Off the mat, initiate!” Eric yells at Al as I step up.

“Good luck, Mimi.” Al squeezes my shoulder as he walks back to Tris and Christina.

“I’m gonna need it,” I whisper.

Edward and I are still for a small infinity before the fight begins and then he rushes me. I back up three steps and then twist, trying to get behind him. But he’s as quick on his feet as I am on mine and there’s hardly a moment where he isn’t facing me. I punch, aiming for his sternum but he catches my wrist and bends my arm back. I try to twist my arm out of his grip, but then he tries to do to me what I just watched Al do to Will. When his punch comes at my head I turn away and bring my other hand up and at the angle I am I know that I won’t be able to land an effective punch. Instead, I elbow him as hard as I can in the mouth.

We exchange blows and though I would like to say that mine were perfect and always landed on the weak points that Four made us memorize, I would say that I could only manage to do that a fifth of the time. Edward hits as hard as I expected to and his technique is nearly perfect.

He brings his leg up and kicks the back of my knees, but as I fall my fingers manage to snag the collar of his shirt. Caught unaware, I feel him bend and his nose smash into the top of my head. I shove him back away from me as my knees hit the ground to buy me a few seconds to get back to my feet.

“Will you two get on with it already!” Eric shouts.

“Would love to, unfortunately-” the rest of my sentence is lost because Edward punches me in the stomach.

His nose is dripping blood and he looks annoyed. I’m sure that this fight has already dragged on much longer than he would have expected or liked it to. He tries to punch me in the face but I duck under his arm and go for his side. As his guard drops down to protect himself there, I straighten quickly and punch him in the throat. He makes a gagging noise but neither stumbles nor falters. He punches me in the face and I can’t shake off blows like he can so I stumble back. Using this to his advantage, he knocks my feet out from under me and my back slams into the ground. He drops down but I roll to the side before he can pin me and sit up to kick him in his exposed ribs. I kick him hard enough that it knocks him down onto his side. I scramble over, not bothering with getting to my feet and try to pin him, placing one knee on his chest and trying to get his arms under control like we were taught. He flails and one of his hands catches in my hair. He drags my face toward his and then head-buts me. When I snap back, he has the opportunity to shove me back. Despite how strong he is, I don’t go very far; I wind up still on his legs, but he can sit up now and he manages to free himself relatively quickly. We both jump to our feet and I punch him in the face. My nose has started bleeding too and fatigue is starting to get to me. I try to put some distance between us with an array of different punches, but he scarcely lets me out of an arm’s reach. He punches me in the jaw and then grabs my shoulders to hold me still while he knees me in the stomach. When I double over, his knee comes up again and this time it hits my face. I fall a second time and don’t quite make it away when he drops down to pin me. One of his hands locks my upper right arm in a vice grip and holds it to the ground while the other tries to land a hit on my face despite the fact that I keep moving my head. I can’t hit very hard at this angle and my left arm isn’t as strong as my right anyways, which Edward must have figured out, so it’s like my attempts to fight back are doing nothing.

Seemingly annoyed with my struggling, Edward stops trying to punch me in the face and uses that hand to pin my left wrist. He head-buts me and it’s not something that I can dodge.

 

The next thing that I’m aware of is someone’s hand on my face. I grab the wrist that it’s attached to and open my eyes.

“Hey, she lives.” Edward looms above me looking very, very smug. “Take it easy. Fight’s over.”

I huff and very quietly say, “Fuck.”

“Here.” Edward stands and offers me his hand. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

I take his hand and he pulls me to my feet. “I don’t need to go to the infirmary. I’m good.”

“Uh.” Edward gives me a quizzical look. “I…knocked you out.” There’s a slight upturn at the end of his sentence that makes it sound like a question. “You weren’t fine just a minute ago and, from one person who’s been knocked out before to another, you’re not fine now.”

“Fine,” I concede. “If only to make sure that you didn’t knock something loose.” I take a step and then immediately realize what Edward meant about not being fine because the world feels like I’m spinning and going to be sick. I grab his shoulder to try to stop myself from collapsing again.

“See.” Edward wraps an arm around my waist to keep me upright. “Not fine.”

“Not fine,” I mumble. “Got it.”

“Tris and Myra!” Eric yells as Edward helps me off the mat. “You’re up!”

Tris and I exchange smiles and we pass each other.

“Kiss for good luck?” Myra says and Edward nearly drops me to give her that kiss.

We walk through the winding hallways together in silence for all of about a minute.

“So why does Four call you Ice Queen?” Edward asks.

“’Cause he’s a dick-bag.” I shrug. “I don’t know.”

Edward snickers. “Never mind. I think I’ve figured it out.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh really? And why, pray tell, would that be?”

He hums, tapping his finger against his chin as though he’s deep in thought. “Well, and I might be totally off base here, but just as a guess; it might have something to do with positively subzero personality.”

“Don’t also be a dick-bag, Edward. I have taken one too many hits to the head to deal with that. Or maybe not enough.”

He chuckles. “Go with one too many. Can’t have you passing out on me again, Ice Queen.”

“Oh not you too,” I groan.

His chuckle turns to a laugh. “Guess I’ll just have to think of an obnoxious nickname of my own for you.”

“If you try then I swear that the next time we’re up against each other, I’ll turn you into a fine powder.”

“Oh please, I’m already fine. And I think that you might have a bit of trouble doing that considering how fast you went down this time.”

“Yeah, and your bloody nose was just spontaneous and not at all because you hit it on the top of my head of all things. I didn’t even have to punch you.”

He snorts. “There’s blood in your hair by the way. Like, a lot of blood in your hair.”

“I figured. That’s gonna be a bitch and a half to wash out later.”

He hums in agreement and we arrive at the infirmary. He opens the door and we have to go through sideways because I’m still having a bit of trouble standing up on my own.

“Oh great, more of them,” says the aqua haired nurse who’s checking over Will. She turns to Four. “I hope that this isn’t going to become a regular thing.”

“Initiation, Phyllis. Can’t be helped.”

“Can’t be helped my ass,” Phyllis mutters. “Just stop making them punch each other into unconsciousness and you’re golden.” She smiles at me. “Come here, Darling. Let’s see how bad you’ve been damaged.” She hands Edward and I both tissues to clean up the blood flowing from our noses.

“You’re good to go back, Edward,” Four says.

Edward leaves and I take a seat on the bed next to Will’s, who is now awake.

“Mmm, I thought you were supposed to win your fight,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, that was before I got matched up against Edward. You weren’t kidding about his skills.”

“Oh not at all. Looks like you fucked him up a little, going off of his face and your hair. Wish I could have seen it.”

“Deep breath.” Phyllis presses her stethoscope to my chest. She does that five more times and then sets the stethoscope off to the side and pulls the curtain out between Will and I. “Take off your shirt, I’m sure you’re already bruising.” I do as she says.

“Hey,” I say to Will, “you know that I didn’t actually mean what I said about hoping that you lost, right? I really didn’t think that you would.”

“Yeah, I know that, Mimi. It’s Christina that I’m concerned about.”

We share a laugh that turns into me groaning in pain.

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Phyllis says. “It’s gonna hurt a lot more tomorrow morning, by the way. But nothing’s broken, you and the other one are good to go.”

“Thank you, Nurse Phyllis,” I say and then pull my shirt back on.

“Thanks,” Will calls from the other side of the curtain.

“It’s what I’m here for. I’m sure as young Dauntless you two will find yourselves in here quite a bit. I wish you both the best of luck in initiation and that you’re not in here often.”

“I’ll wait here for the others,” Four says.

The last thing that I hear before I walk out the door is Phyllis saying to Four, “You’d better be making sure that they’re eating right. They’re growing kids and that boy is built like a string bean.”

“If it’s any consolation,” I say to Will as we walk down the hallway, “you looked really good. I wouldn’t be surprised if Four gave you points based entirely on how great your technique was.”

“Wow,” Will says, “that sounded like a compliment. I will take it.”

Our conversation is cut short when we pass Tris in the hallway being supported by Edward.

Will chuckles. “You would think with all that pent up aggression from years of Abnegation repression, she would have been able to win that fight.”

“Shut up, Will,” Tris mutters, barely heard over our laughter.

Back in the training room, Peter and Drew are fighting and not at all evenly matched. Peter is beating Drew into the ground, but he hasn’t passed out yet.

We walk over to Christina and Al and I sit down, leaning back against the pillar to feel the cold of the concrete against my skin. I still feel nauseous, but I flatly refuse to throw up because that would just be embarrassing.

“How’d Tris look?” Will asks.

“Good,” Al says. “Really good.”

“Guess she’s not quite as helpless as we thought,” Christina adds.

“Yeah, neither is Myra. I mean the girl’s the size of a leaf, but I guess Edward’s been showing her some things,” Al says. “It was…wow.”

I curl into a ball trying to stay awake and keep my lunch down. My head is killing me

Tris comes back right as Peter knocks out Drew and sits down beside me. In the passing hours while the others complete their fights, I start to feel marginally better. I’m sure I look like hot garbage but it doesn’t hurt to have my eyes open anymore.

The last person before Christina goes town like a sack of potatoes and she tilts her head back against the pillar. “Oh shit.”

“You’ll do great,” Will says.

“We’ll cheer if you want us to,” I say.

Christina rolls her eyes. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

She tucks her short black hair behind her ears as she steps up onto the mat and then cracks her knuckles. Her nerves show clearly on her face, though I can understand why. Will, Tris, and I just got done getting knocked the fuck out by our respective opponents.

I miss the beginning of the fight because another wave of nausea forces me to rest my head back on my knees and close my eyes because those fluorescent lights are definitely not helping.

My head snaps up when I hear Molly wheeze as Christina kicks her in the side. Molly grits her teeth and I half expect her to growl. Her hair falls into her face and she doesn’t brush it away; instead, she smirks and then dives at Christina’s middle with her hands outstretched. They both go crashing to the ground and Christina thrashes underneath her, but Molly is much heavier than she can manage to escape from.

She punches and Christina jerks her head to the side, but Molly just keeps trying until she finally manages to land a blow to her jaw, then her nose, then her mouth. I cover my mouth with both hands and watch in sheer horror.

“Jesus Christ,” Will slides down next to me.

“Don’t, uh,” I cringe when Molly lands another punch, “she’s not done yet.”

Blood runs down Christina’s face and drips onto the mat; she’s still conscious so Eric won’t call the fight. She screams into her teeth and I wish that she would just pass out so that we can get her to the infirmary already. Molly doesn’t even show a hint of remorse as she continues to beat Christina.

After a few more agonizing moments, Christina screams and drags one arm free and punches Molly in the ear to knock her off balance. When Molly teeters, she manages to wriggle free and crawl away. She puts one hand over her face and the blood covers her fingers in seconds. She sobs into her bloodied hands and then screams again when Molly kicks her and sends her sprawling onto her back. I can’t bring myself to tear my eyes away; all I can do is watch in horror and at some point during the horror, Will and I wind up clinging to each other while Tris and Al do the same.

“Stop!” Christina wails, holding out her hands as if they will protect her as Molly pulls her foot back again. “Stop. I’m…” her cough is mixed with a sob. “I’m done.”

Molly smiles and backs up. My friends and I breathe a collective sigh of relief and, ignoring my dizziness, I stand to go help her and Will moves with me. I take a step forward but stop dead when Eric stalks toward the mat. He looms over Christina with his arms folded.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he says quietly. “You’re done?”

Christina moves into a more stable sitting position and then nods, the tears that run down her face mix with the blood and then drip from her bruising jaw onto the mat.

“Get up,” he says with icy calm. I would not expect such an intensely Dauntless man to be so chillingly quiet. Dauntless are loud, explosive; like the Candor. Angry Dauntless scream and fight, I’ve seen the occasional fight break out over practically nothing. I know what Kira tells me. I also know exactly what Eric’s doing, that quiet rage and unerring calm that can sometimes be the most fear inducing thing it is. It’s the tone that my mother uses when she’s upset with people, it’s a very Erudite mannerism.

He grabs Christina’s arm as she is wobbling to her feet and then yanks her to her feet himself.

“Follow me,” he says to the rest of us and nods his head toward the door.

We do so in dead silence down the stone corridors. I would actually like Four to appear right about now, round the corner and cut us off. Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to talk Eric down from whatever he is about to do.

Once again, I hear the Chasm before I see it. I feel it as a vibration in my chest and the roar fills me ears.

Most of us all stop by the railing, before the bridge, but Eric grabs Christina and pulls her up the stairs and out to the middle of the bridge. There’s no one around but the eleven of us; the sun filters down through the skylight and casts the whole space in a washed out white light that’s too bright for my recently punched head to deal with very well.

Eric shoves Christina against the railing and she groans, almost crumpling again but managing to support herself against one of the metal bars.

“Climb over it,” he says.

“What?” she gasps and gapes at him with wide eyes.

“He wouldn’t,” I hear Myra whisper.

“No,” Edward gasps.

“No fuckin’ way,” someone else whispers.

“What?” another initiate claps their hand over their mouth in shock.

“He can’t,” Al whimpers.

“He can’t actually do that,” Will mutters.

“I think he can,” I whisper back.

“Shut up!” Eric snaps at us. He whirls back on Christina; enunciating each word he says, “Climb over the railing. You have three options; hang over the Chasm for five minutes and I will forget your cowardice, fall and die, or give up and leave.” As he finishes her sentence, more water splashes up from the raging river below and coats the thin metal rails in what has to be absolutely frigid water. Even if she does choose to do it, there’s no way to know if she’ll be able to hold on. Even without just having been beaten to hell and back it would be highly debatable whether she’d be able to do it. She’s looking at a choice between factionlesness and death.

The image of her slipping is enough to almost make me burst into tears.

“Fine,” she says with a tremble to her voice. She places her feet on the bar closest to the ground, gripping the top bar as hard as she can. She shakes as she climbs over and then lets her feet hang in open air. She looks over at us and I can see the fear in her eyes.

Al sets his watch and then it becomes a waiting game.

For the first minute and a half, everything is fine. Christina keeps a firm grip on the railing and her arms don’t tremble. She doesn’t so much as spare Eric a glance; she looks only at the nine of us, or probably just at me and her other three friends.

But then the river crashes up again, splashing the bridge and soaking Christina’s back. She cries out as her face strikes the barrier and her hands slip until she’s hanging only by her fingertips, she tries to get a better grip but now her hands are wet.

None of us can move a muscle to help her. As brave as we’re supposed to be, none of us are willing to cross Eric. I don’t think that anyone is willing to cross Eric. I would not think that Dauntless would be the ones to just let a person risk death because they’re – we’re – too afraid to anger a single person; but here we are.

Christina lets out a sob louder than the river that snaps my heart in two. Another spray of water coats her body and she shakes violently. One of her hands slips from the railing and she can’t get it back up again no matter how she tries.

“Come on, Christina,” Al says with surprising volume. “You can do it! Grab the railing again!”

Christina swings her arm up and fumbles for the railing again, straining for it and everyone is dead silent but Al cups his hands around his mouth and hoots.

“You’ve got this!” Will exclaims.

“We know you can do it!” The words break from my throat with more power than I knew that I had.

“Hang on!” Myra yells.

Drew makes a noise that dies when Peter elbows him in the ribs.

“Come on,” Tris says barely above a whisper. She clears her throat and says much louder, “One minute left.”

She manages to grab the railing again just barely and a cheer ripples through the crowd that makes Eric glare daggers at us. Christina’s arms shake so hard that I wonder if the bridge itself is shaking, but even so she twists her head and stares at us again.

“Come on, Christina,” Tris and Al’s voices join together, then mine and Will’s, Edward’s and Myra’s. It becomes a chant.

“Shut the fuck up!” Eric roars and stomps on the bridge just as another wave of water splashes her. She shrieks as she slips of the railing and half of us scream with her.

But she doesn’t fall. She manages to grip the bottom of the bridge at the very last second, hard enough to keep her from falling to her death. She’s much closer to the splashing water now; the next big wave could drag her down with it.

“Time!” Al almost spits the word at Eric. “That’s five minutes, let her up.”

Eric looks down at his own watch, taking his sweet time examining it from different angles as though it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen all day.

“Fine,” he says after too long. “You can come up now, Christina.”

Al walks toward the railing.

“No,” Eric says. “She has to pick herself up.”

“No she doesn’t,” Al growls.

“Fuck you,” I sort of mutter under my breath. Sort of because everyone around me hears me and Eric may have also heard me.

“She did what you said,” Al continues, “she proved that she’s not a coward. You never said anything about her having to get up on her own.”

Eric doesn’t say anything as Al storms toward the railing with the three of us right on his heels. Will and Al reach over and are able to pull Christina up from the bottom and once she’s high enough, Tris and I assist them. We haul her over the safely onto the bridge and she immediately drops to the ground, knees clanging against the metal. She breathes heavily, her face is still smeared with blood from the fight and now her entire body is soaked and she’s shivering. We go down with her and catch our breath together, saying nothing and only forming a protective little circle around her as she begins to sob.


	11. Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the group starts to confront their problems.

The five of us skip dinner and head straight back to the dorms, Christina leans against Will for a portion of the walk and then Al scoops her up in his arms and carries her while she cries into his shirt. We stop outside the doors.

“Chris,” I say, “do you want to rinse the blood off you?”

She nods.

“I’ll grab some fresh clothes,” Tris says, walking into the dorm.

“I’ll get dinner,” Will says.

“I’ll talk to the nurse and get some bandages,” Al says.

The boys walk away together and I’m left alone with Christina.

“Don’t leave me alone,” she says weakly as she props herself up against me.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I help her limp into the bathroom and the last I see of her she kneels on the shower floor.

“I’ll be right here,” I say. “I won’t leave.”

The only response I get is her wet clothes being tossed over the curtain and the water turning on. I pick up the clothes and hang them on the hook next to the shower, then hop up on the sinks and wait.

Tris comes in not even a minute later, fresh clothes in her arms.

“Hey Chris,” she says loudly enough to be heard over the water. “I’m back.”

The two of us sit in silence, side by side listening to the water. Right along with the sound of the shower running, I can hear Christina still crying but neither of us can think of anything to say because what difference could it make? How could we possibly even begin to make better what Eric did to her? We can’t; we can only be here for her and offer whatever support that we can.

“Okay,” Christina says after a long time as she turns off the water. “Hand me my clothes.” She’s still sniffling and her voice breaks halfway through her sentence.

She steps out after another minute of silence. This is the quietest we’ve ever been around each other and the tension is palpable. She pulls back the curtain and stands before us in the comfortable training clothes that we were provided with but the t-shirt seems to be oversized for more comfort. She still shivers but I don’t think that it’s because she’s cold anymore.

After a moment of saying and doing nothing, she quickly moves forward and envelopes us both in a crushing hug. I return it after a brief second or so of surprise, putting one hand on Christina’s back and wrapping my other arm around Tris. She takes another second longer (not used to being hugged I guess), but I feel her fingertips bump against mine on Christina’s back and her arm snake around the back of my neck.

We stay like that for a little while, hugging and Christina starts crying again and I try not to cry but fail and I can feel Tris’ shoulders shaking as she begins to cry too.

“Okay,” Christina says finally. “Okay. I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” I agree, pulling back slightly so that I can look at her face.

“You’re okay,” Tris echoes me.

“I’m okay,” Christina repeats and it sounds like she’s more telling herself than she’s telling us. “I’m okay.”

“We’re okay,” Tris says.

Christina nods. “We’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” I agree.

We walk back to the dorm room, Tris and I with our arms around Christina protectively, and find the boys waiting for us. Will has enough food for five and Al has ice packs, band-aids, and gauze. They look up when we enter and smile.

“I’ll dress your hands,” Will says to Christina as the three of us kneel down on the concrete floor with them. Christina puts one hand in his and he begins cleaning it with disinfectant that makes her hiss in pain.

“I know,” Will mutters. “Has to be done.” Christina nods weakly.

We lapse into silence again and my gaze is fixed on Christina, on her every little flinch. Will is through, cleaning out the blood and grime that gathered beneath her nails and the bits that stuck on her palms after the shower.

“Talk,” Christina says after a while. “Please talk this is so tense.”

“Uh.” Al glances around the plain room looking for anything of interest to make conversation about. “Mimi still has blood in her hair,” he blurts out.

“I’ll fix it later,” I say softly, more focused on Christina than the conversation.

“When it was fresh it was almost a good look for you,” Will says. “Bright red. You should consider dying your hair that color.”

“Sounds gaudy,” I mutter.

Al snorts. “You and Tris are such prudes.” In a high voice that could either be me or Tris he says he says, “No, I won’t dye my hair; that’s gaudy. No, I won’t get a tattoo. No, I won’t do literally anything adventurous whatsoever.

“Hey,” Tris says indignantly. “I have a tattoo.” She pulls the collar of her shirt down and to the side to expose the three birds in a line just beneath her collar bone.

“For the record, I only said that bright red was gaudy. I haven’t ruled out dying my hair entirely.”

“Semantics.” Al waves his hand as if he’s brushing my statement away. “My point still stands.”

“On what?” I say, barely able to contain my laughter.

I hear Christina give a weak laugh too and internally breathe a sigh of relief.

We’re gonna be just fine.

 

After dinner, when everyone comes back, we’re all still sitting on the floor chatting. After Will finished dressing her wounds, Christina broke out the nail polish that she’d bought the other day and Tris painted her nails. She’d never done it before, but she wanted to just do something and it eventually turned into everyone getting their nails painted. Because her hands stung so badly, Christina couldn’t do anyone’s but she was happy to critique. Not that the Candor even wear nail polish, that same dishonesty in appearance policy.

I did Al’s and Will did Tris’ and they looked great because of course they did. Erudite is the faction of cosmetics, everyone knows how to do everything. While we were on the subject, we got to have a bit of a laugh over how badly our makeup had gotten messed up, which we’d been ignoring until then.

Peter, Molly, and Drew all ignore us when they come back for the night and go straight to Peter’s bunk to continue the conversation that they were having. But I don’t miss the glances that Molly and Drew both cast in Christina’s direction. They weren’t malicious, but they make me a tad defensive anyways.

A few of the others make passing comments but mostly they help by not saying anything at all. The noise in the room makes it feel full and eases some of the tension that had built when it was just us and Peter’s group.

When Edward and Myra return, they make a beeline for us. Usually they isolate themselves from the rest of us in the corner, only ever occasionally bothering with the other Erudite transfers. Though I guess like Peter and his friends, the need to surround yourself with new people is less pressing when you've already got someone to hang on to.

“Hey,” Edward says, “we just wanted to check up on you, Christina. I, uh, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry. That really sucked. I’m sure it sucked a lot more for you but, uh, yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“We know that you’re not doing great,” Myra says, “but we still felt like we should check up on you.”

Christina offers them a smile. “I’m going to be just fine, you guys. Thanks for thinking of me. I heard you cheering. You didn’t have to do that, but you did and it, uh, it means something to me to know that you two, who I don’t even really know that well, were rooting for me.”

“Of course,” Myra says. “We’re practically family now, being in the same faction and all.”

“Some family,” Christina says, shaking her head.

Edward nods. “Yeah. It, uh, shit sucks.”

“Want to sit down?” Christina offers.

Edward and Myra sit down in between Christina and I. I remember earlier in the week when Edward seemed like he was going to be kind of a dick. Not like Peter, but not really the sort of person to be around. He was pretty rude to Christina back then too and now he’s expressing very genuine concern, though he doesn’t exactly seem like he’s able to put that concern into words. And earlier today when he walked me to the infirmary, joked and kept me propped up. There wasn’t a hint of the overconfident asshat that I met earlier in the week. I think that I might have misjudged Edward, he doesn’t seem like that bad of a guy.

I glance over at Will and he seems as surprised as I am, his head tilted slightly to one side in confusion as he attempts to analyze Edward without saying a word, to pick apart his words to figure out his true intentions.

“And you guys.” Edward gestures to Tris, Will, and I. “I know you three took one hell of a beating. How are you doing now?”

Tris and I share a look that we then turn back on Edward and Myra. Myra blushes and ducks her head while Edward chuckles.

“Sorry,” Myra says quietly.

“Don’t apologize for skill,” Christina says. “No offense, Tris, but she was great. You both were great.” Al and Edward nod in agreement.

“Tris definitely gave me a run for my money,” Myra says. “Thought I was going to lose that fight, honestly.”

“Do you stay after hours?” Tris asks. “Because I don’t remember you being that good in practice.”

“Perks of having a boyfriend trained in hand to hand combat.” Myra pats Edward’s arm affectionately and he kisses her cheek. Out of the corner of my eye I see Will raise his eyebrows at Tris and Tris glares back at him.

“Yeah, I can see that coming in handy,” Tris says, nodding.

“Thanks for checking up on me, you two,” Christina says. “I really, really appreciate it.”

“Like Myra said, we’re like family now.” Edward rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Like a really terrible and dysfunctional family, but a family nonetheless.”

We all get up off the floor and retire to our respective bunks, Will lingering by Christina for a second longer and speaking quietly to her. She hugs him and then bids him goodnight.

The lights go out but I stay awake, staring off into space and listening to the sounds of everyone else sleeping. Al and Christina both cry in their sleep and Tris tosses and turns like she’s having a nightmare. I lean back against the wall and stare blankly at the wooden door, which I can only barely make out in the darkness. After a while I grow tired of sitting in the dark and I stand up, the cold stone beneath my bare feet making me shiver. I need to get this blood out of my hair or it will be a serious problem tomorrow morning. It’s probably already dry and even more disgusting and a bitch to clean. I did kind of bring it on myself what with the whole pulling Edward down by his collar, but that does not in any way negate my right to internally complain about it.

I bump into and stub my toes on more than one bunk trying to get to the door. There’s not a single sliver of light so I have to resort to sticking my hands out and fumbling blindly toward the door. The lights in the bathroom are painfully bright and as soon as I turn them on I step back and cover my eyes, staying like that for a minute before slowly taking them away and allowing myself to get used to them. I can almost feel any lingering urge to sleep leaving me body and part of me just wants to give in and shower in the dark, but I don’t like that idea any more than sticking with the bright white lights on that make everything look sterile and bleached. I look at myself in the mirror for the first time since the fight and realize how shit I really look. I have a big black mark in the center of my forehead from where Edward head-butted me, and a bruise blooming in shades of purple and yellow just under my right eye. I sight through my gritted teeth and then get in the shower, grimacing at all of the other bruises littering my body.

The cold water feels good against my bruises but scraping Edward’s blood out of my hair with my bare fingernails is considerably less enjoyable. We’re provided with shampoo and conditioner, which is nice because I go through about half a bottle trying to get it all out. The water turns rusty red and I get the majority of it stuck under my fingernails as I have to literally rake my hands through my hair and scrape it off because I let it dry. I don’t regret putting it off to take care of Christina, but this is not enjoyable.

When the water becomes clear again and I can touch my hair again without coming away with red fingertips, I decide to shut off the water and get dressed again. That’s an ordeal all on its own; I was sore going into this fight from practice and now I’m sore from the fight on top of it. I kind of feel like I’m decomposing between all of the aches, pains, and the blood.

That last one was a joke.

I look at the roots of my hair in the mirror as best I can, combing through and checking for any lingering spots of blood. My hair is so light that even the faintest traces really show up and I have to put my head in the sink and scrub it out.

I hear the bathroom door bang open and I jump, bumping my head on the faucet in the process and swearing under my breath. The door slams shut and I lift my head to see who came in, wringing out my hair while I do.

Christina stands with her back pressed against the door and her eyes wide and afraid. She looks at me but says nothing, as she continues to hyperventilate.

“Christina.” I approach her slowly with my hands spread out before me. She flinches away from me, stepping back into the corner.

“It’s me,” I say gently. “You’re okay. Whatever happened is over now.”

She holds her breath for a few seconds and then lets it out in a shaky sigh. “I – I know. I just had a nightmare. I fell.”

I don’t know what to say, so I hug her instead and though she doesn’t start crying again she trembles in my arms.

“I could have died,” she whispers. “I could have died today.”

“But you didn’t,” I say, running a hand over her hair. “You’re here; you’re alive, you made it through. We all knew that you would.”

“He tried to kill me, Mimi. I…how am I ever supposed to see him again? How am I supposed to get through the rest of initiation knowing that my psychotic instructor might try to kill me at any point, and for what? Not being able to win a fight where I’m clearly outmatched?!”

“Christina, you don’t have to do this alone. I promise you that no matter what happens during the rest of initiation, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you and we’re not going anywhere. We’ll protect you, that’s what friends are for.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” she says. “I can’t…I can’t imagine any of you guys having to go through that and I don’t want to. Mimi, what he did to me…I can’t stop thinking about how many ways it could have killed me, and how it could have killed you guys if you were in my place.”

“But it’s okay,” I say. “We’re all okay and so are you.”

“No, I’m not!” she exclaims, burying her face in my shoulder. “I’m not. I almost died today and I don’t know-” She lets out a sob. “I don’t know how cope with that.”

I don’t respond. What could I say to that? She’s right, I don’t know how one is supposed to cope with the fact that their instructor almost killed them; how she’s supposed to see Eric every day for the next fifteen weeks and then for the rest of her life because he’s a Dauntless leader, that is the man running our faction, that is the man responsible for our safety and prosperity.

Excuse the fuck out of me for wondering how the hell he’s qualified for that position. Cruel and brutish as Dauntless is, I suppose I can see him being like a professional fighter or something; but sure as shit not a politician and absolutely the last person that anyone sane would want in charge of initiation. I can’t imagine how that conversation must have gone, “ _We need someone to take over initiation, who should we pick?_ ” “ _Oh, how about the guy who looks like he trips toddlers for fun; that sounds like a good idea._ ”

“Christina,” I say, “I don’t know what to say to make this better. I just want you to know that we’re all behind you a hundred percent; we’re not going to let anything else that’s bad happen to you. Anything that you need, we’re here for you.”

She nods. “I – I…Thank you, Mimi. You’re sweet.”

“What are friends for?”

We walk back into the dorms together with our arms around each other, separating when we reach Christina’s bunk. It takes me a while to fall asleep, but when I do it is peaceful and dreamless.

 

As late as I went to bed last night, I’m still among the first people up. I try to stay quiet as I grab my clothes for today and slip out of the room. I’m sure that we’ll have to fight again, so I don’t bother with my makeup no matter how odd that feels. I’m really not looking forward to today, I have more aches and pains than I can really describe and I’m sure that I’ll only acquire more. How many times are we going to do this? How many times am I going to get punched before these fifteen weeks are up? I guess I’ll find out.

I didn’t get a chance to tie my hair up before going to bed last night so it’s a total rat’s nest. I can already see it starting to lose its sheen as more time passes between washes using the Erudite products, which are as nice as they come. My hair is really the least of my concerns right now, or at least it should be, but to look good is to feel good and right now I feel like shit.

In the mirror, I see Myra come in behind me looking dead tired. Her auburn curls have lost the spiral that they held on the first day and she’s traded her white bow for a black hair tie.

She stands next to me in front of the mirror and mutters something that sounds like ‘good morning’.

“Sleep well, Myra?”

“Those beds suck,” she mumbles as she begins to run her brush through her hair.

I nod. They’re lumpy, rock hard, probably older than we are, and the room in general is perpetually cold. I guess that’s what happens when you’re at least a couple hundred feet underground.

Molly, Tris, and Christina trickle in, each looking as tired as I am. Molly keeps cutting her eyes and Christina; Tris notices and makes a point of always being between the two of them. We get ready in silence because no one has anything to say and we don’t feel like wasting our time on small talk. The others stream in one after another too, some talking quietly but most just trying to wake up. I notice a few of them casting furtive looks at Christina as we get ready but no one says anything. We’re all apprehensive about what happened yesterday and I think the last thing anyone – especially Christina – wants to do is talk about it.

After we’re done, Christina, Tris, and I go back into the dorm. In her absence, someone had spray painted the word ‘Stiff’ on Tris’ mattress in red and written it all over her the wood of the bunk.

She groans. “Go to breakfast you two, I’ll...” she sighs, “take care of this…this…”

“Shit?” I offer. “I’ll help.”

“Me too.” Christina says.

She shakes her head. “Don’t bother, just go.”

“Nice decorations,” Peter says as he fluffs his pillow. He is the only person in the room besides us, obviously it’s him who did it. Probably got Drew’s help. They’re the only ones this invested in making another person miserable.

Christina and I leave Tris and Peter alone and when the door is shut I turn to her. “You think she’ll be okay?”

“I don’t see why not,” Christina says. “Peter’s an asshole, but this is the girl who has stood up to Four before. I think she’s going to be just fine.”

We meet Will at our usual breakfast table after we get our food. Four hasn’t sat here since the first night and everybody is oddly ridged when it comes to tables. I find myself a little out of my depth here; sure, we ate communally at school but that’s different from being crowded into a room with literally thousands of other people.

“I’ve got a question,” Christina says to Will, propping her chin up on her fist.

“I’ve probably got an answer,” Will says.

“What’s your beef with Edward? I mean, last night he seemed pretty okay.”

Will sighs, glancing off in the direction of the table that he shares with Myra and a few of the other Erudite transfers. “It’s kind of a long story. The short version is that we used to date and then he dumped me for Myra, and honestly I’m a little bitter.”

“Thought so,” Christina says as she takes a bite of her hashbrowns.

“You _thought so_?” Will raises his eyebrows.

Christina swallows. “Sure. In Candor we’re taught to pick up on little things that most people don’t even notice to discern if a person is lying. The way you talked I figured that there was something else was going on there and I basically narrowed it down to you guys used to be friends or you used to date.”

Will chuckles. “And you’re saying that all of you Candor know how to do this?”

Christina shrugs. “Yeah basically.”

He shakes his head. “Remind me to never cross a Candor. Last thing I need is someone learning all my secrets via a minor twitch in my hand.”

“Be afraid,” Christina laughs. “Be very afraid.”

Will raises his eyebrows. “What ever happened to getting rid of all that old faction stuff, as you said.”

“I don’t see you getting any dumber, book boy.”

Will shrugs. “Touché.”

Tris and Al never join us for breakfast; perhaps I should have stuck around to help her clean up her bed. She said that she was fine but it can’t feel good to know that she has a metaphorical target on her back because of where she comes from.

We each finish up another cup of coffee, which, like everything here, isn’t nearly as good as what we had in Erudite, before getting up and heading to training. When we arrive, Tris and Al are already there. Tris stares at the board in horror, she’s been put up against Peter. I’m fighting Will.

“Oh no.” Christina turns to Tris. “Are they serious? They’re really going to make you fight him?”

“Maybe you can just take a few hits and pretend to go unconscious,” Al suggests. “No one would blame you for it.”

“Aim for his eyes,” I say flatly and make a gesture as if I’m poking out his eyes. “He can’t hit what he can’t see.”

Tris is completely out matched; Peter is nearly a foot taller and noticeably stronger. After what he did to Drew yesterday, who is supposedly his friend, I don’t doubt that he’ll snap Tris in half today.

“Maybe,” Tris says without inflection, still staring at the board. “And thanks for the advice, Mimi.”

“Can you even reach his eyes?” Christina says with a snicker. No one responds and she begins to look guilty. “Not the time for humor. Got it.”

“Well, on a lighter note,” Will says, “looks like it’s me against Mimi.”

“Good,” I say. “I’ve been waiting to fight you since day one.”

“Oh the feeling is entirely mutual, Dearie.” He flashes me a saccharine smile.

“Are you two even friends?” Myra basically manifests from thin air next to me and I jump. “It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

“It’s an issue of constant debate,” Will says.

I roll my eyes. “Honestly, we find it hard to tell sometimes.”

“Yes, they’re friends.” Christina shoves her way in between the two of us. “They’re just so used to pretending not to have feelings that they now have no idea how to actually be nice to people.”

Myra snorts. “Yep, that sounds like our old faction.”

Four walks in, coffee in hand.

“You’re late,” I kind of mutter under my breath.

“Laps.” He makes a circle motion with his finger. “And I heard that, Ice Queen. You can take an extra one.”

I shrug. “Worth it.”

 

After our laps we have target practice. I’ve grown used to the sound and the recoil like everyone else; my aim is starting to get better too. I don’t hit the bullseye every time, or even most of the time, but I get there a few times.

“You would think that after a week or so they’d be halfway decent shots by now.” I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know that Eric just walked in. The asinine comments and annoying voice is clue enough.

“Yep,” Four agrees. “Too bad they seem to be more concerned with getting all buddy-buddy rather than practicing.”

I roll my eyes. What in the hell would Four and Eric know about having friends? We can’t all be bitter, broody man-children who demean and torture teenagers for fun.

I try to block them out and focus on hitting the target, but that’s a little difficult when I can’t make the bullseye no matter how many tweaks I make. I glance around me, checking on how the others are doing. To my great annoyance, Peter seems to be doing the best out of all of us. _Goddamn_ do I want him to fail, to just be shit at _something_ like the rest of us are. Even Edward if struggling to get much closer to the bullseye than the second ring.

“Hey, come on guys,” Peter says as he makes another bullseye. “It’s not that hard.”

“I hope you shoot yourself in the foot,” I snarl and keep trying.

I know that realistically speaking, Tris can’t win her fight this afternoon. But I would give anything just to see him bruised and bloody like the rest of us were yesterday. I’m sure that I’ll get my shot at Peter at some point in these next few weeks, but I want to shut him up so badly. Not that I really could at this current stage in my training. I’m not an idiot, I know that him and Edward are the best in our class; I know that if I tried now, Peter would wipe the floor with me.

We finish at the same time we do every day, the hours of our morning filled with Eric making sarcastic quips about how terrible we are. I swear that if I roll my eyes any harder they’ll just roll straight out of my head.

“Alright,” Eric says, pacing back and forth before us. “I hope that after your abysmal display yesterday, you’ve all learned your lesson.” He skims his eyes over us. “Well?”

We nod, some of us agree verbally but it’s begrudged and tense. No one will risk angering him again, not after yesterday. I see Christina shudder violently in the corner of my vision and I want to wrap my arm around her, but instead I just keep my eyes focused on one of the pillars on the other side of the room.

He smirks. “Good.” He claps his hands and glances back to the board. “Let’s get Molly and Edward up here, two of yesterday’s victors and therefore marginally less of a disappointment than the rest of you.” He jerks his head back at us, but I take notice of how it seems to be very specifically at my four friends and I. All of us but Al lost our fights yesterday, and I’m sure that he expects us all to lose today.

When Molly and Edward step up and Eric walks away from us, we all sit down near the pillars to watch the fight. Not wanting to sit alone I’m sure, Myra joins my group.

“What an asshole,” she whispers.

“I can’t believe that’s our faction leader,” Will whispers back.

“I can,” I say flatly.

_And that’s my future boss if I get my way,_ I think. I want more than anything one day be a part of Dauntless’ leadership. I’d like to serve on the faction council just like half my family does. I find politics terribly exciting, probably because it’s what I’ve grown up around. Even outside of my family, I was raised among Erudite’s upper class and that is all anyone ever talked about; well, that and each other and themselves. I like to think that the way that the other factions see Erudite is just a stereotype born from lack of understanding, but I can’t say that it doesn’t come from nowhere. My family is almost like the eye of the hurricane, mine and a few others, the Malachite family has very, very deep roots in Erudite. We’ve been tied in with the faction for longer than anyone can really remember; it’s something that the twins get to inherit, because the rest of us left. It’s their legacy now, the rest of us are free to do whatever we want.

The idea both thrills and terrifies me. After all, I’d spent a lot of my life basing my wants off of my family’s, all of which hinged on staying in Erudite. Now that I’m gone, I can become whatever I want. I don’t have to do what they wanted me to do.

Doesn’t matter that I kind of am anyways, the point is that it’s not for them anymore. I want to do this for me, because I have a choice and my choice is to lead.

Of course, to do that I’m going to have to do a lot better in initiation than I am currently doing.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of Molly grunting in pain. They’re both strong, but Edward is quick as well, and well trained. She won’t win today.

She peels herself off the mat sometime later, half conscious and mumbling incoherently. As she and Edward clear the mat, Tris begins to tremble and all the color leaches from her face.

“Peter and the Stiff,” Four says without inflection.

Tris stands and staggers to the mat. She wears her terror on her face and as she settles in her fighting stance, her shaking only intensifies.

“Here’s hoping she passes out quick,” Edward says and Myra smacks him on the arm.

“She’s going to be fine,” Will says even though we all know that she’s not going to be.

“You okay there, Stiff?” Peter says, wearing a twisted smirk. “You look like you’re about to cry. I might go easy on you if you cry.”

She sneers and kicks him in the side.

“She’s going to be fine,” Will repeats.

I know Tris. She’s brave, she’s our first jumper; she’s living proof that nothing defines you but you. She’s as brave and bold as they come, what does it matter if she can throw a punch? Tris was made for Dauntless; it is simply who she is. I wish that I could be half as brave as her; I wish that I could belong like she does. I would give anything to just _fit_ somewhere like she does, naturally and easily as if she has done this all her life.

Before Tris’ foot can make contact, Peter grabs it and yanks her forward. She falls on her back, but manages to free herself quickly and get back to her feet.

“Stop playing with her,” Eric says. “I don’t have all day.” He just cannot resist commenting on anything and everything, can he? I know that the Dauntless were never exactly ones for tact, but I have only met a few people in my life who are as purely mean-spirited as Eric. Guess I can add another name to that list; right under Peter.

Peter punches Tris in the jaw and she lurches to the side, looking like she’s going to vomit. She tries to move away from him with clumsy and dazed movements, but he follows and kicks her in the stomach. She gasps for air and falls to the ground. When she tries to push herself up, Peter grabs her hair with one hand and punches her in the nose with the other. Her blood splatters on the mat to be cleaned up later, but the stain won’t really go away. I can see where Christina’s blood fell yesterday and I’m sure that mine is there too.

He shoves her back and follows it up with a quick kick to the side that sends her sprawling. But she still tries to get up; she still does get up, and when Peter gets in front of her she swings. She hits him in the stomach and he groans as the wind is knocked out of him. It doesn’t take him off his feet or anything, it doesn’t stop him from smacking her in the ear with the flat of his palm. But the point is made; Peter’s not invincible, and Tris is more resilient than most people thought. Not me though, I figure that anyone who can jump first from a building _and_ sass Four on the first night, has got guts.

I notice Four turn away and walk out without a word, I guess this just isn’t entertaining enough for him. He must prefer it when the fight is more evenly matched so that both parties can injure each other in equal measure.

Tris’ knees give out and she collapses to the mat. Peter kicks her in the stomach and she shrieks, trying to curl into a ball to protect herself. Peter kicks again and again and Tris’ screaming grows louder.

“Enough!” Eric yells. Peter steps back and Tris falls silent. “Christina and Myra, get up here. And someone take care of her.”

Al, Will, and I all go to her while Christina takes her place at one end of the mat. She looks down at Tris with sad eyes, we all do. Al scoops her up in his arms like she weighs nothing at all and looks back at Will and I.

“I can get her on my own,” he says.

“I know,” I say. “Just…please…”

“Don’t stay too long,” Eric says snidely. “You three have got the next two fights.” He chuckles to himself and I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from snapping at him. I have to be nice to Eric, my whole future career hinges on him at least tolerating me.

We take Tris to the infirmary in silence. We all knew that she was going to get her ass kicked, but I don’t think any one of us thought it would be this bad. After what he did to Drew yesterday, I guess that we should have. But it’s still objectively horrifying.

We drop Tris off with Nurse Phyllis and two others, who when they stand together remind me strongly of the sun and moon. Nurse Phyllis looks down at Tris sadly and sighs.

“This poor girl.” She shakes her head. “I am going to have words with Eric and Four this evening, believe you me.”

Al smiles at her. “Thank you, for taking care of us and for everything.”

Phyllis runs her hand over Tris’ hair. “Of course, young man. It’s what I’m here for.”

“We’ll take care of her from here,” says the man with golden hair and skin, whom vaguely reminds me of the sun. “You kids can head back to training.”

We hover in the room for another moment longer, saying nothing. None of us want to leave Tris, not in this condition. What if we’re not here when she wakes up? She’s going to be in a lot of pain and we can’t possibly just leave her to that.

“Go,” says the woman with white hair and a detailed full moon tattoo. “We’ll take care of her.”

Will is the first one to leave and the two of us follow him silently. We get back to the training room just in time to see the end of Christina and Myra’s fight; just in time to see Myra fall unconscious. Four has reappeared, suddenly deciding that we do interest him after all; or maybe, somewhere in what I can only assume is a shriveled black heart of his, he doesn’t want to leave us alone with Dauntless’ sadistic representative because he knows what Eric will do to us if we happen to displease him.

“Well look who’s taken my lessons to heart,” Eric says to Christina, grinning wildly.

She shrinks away from him and goes to sit down. Edward helps Myra off the mat, speaking quietly to her.

“Ice Queen,” Four says, “and Will. Let’s go.”

The two of us stand across from each other on the mat waiting for Four’s signal to begin.

I flash Will a grin. “Hope you’re ready to lose.”

He smirks back at me. “Oh trust me, Mimi, I’m not going to be the one losing.”

“Begin,” Four says.

I let Will make the first move, going for my legs like I knew he would. It’s what he did with Al. I move around his leg and take a swing at his neck that he blocks. We dance around each other, some blows land and others are blocked or dodged. Will hasn’t gotten a chance to see me fight before today, but I assume that he’s been watching all of us train and learning how we fight to give himself the upper hand before he ever steps up on the mat. Unfortunately for him, I’ve been watching too.

But as well matched as we are, Will is slowly beginning to back me into a corner. I can’t let him, or at least not for another few steps. I continue to concede ground, one step back and then another until I block a punch and look behind me to see that I’m only two more steps from the corner. Will strikes again, thinking that it will press me back another step. Instead, what happens is that I sweep his legs out from him and when he falls I jump over him to put the larger area of the mat to my back so I can back up if need be. I kick him in the side to keep him down and feel a pang of guilt when he wheezes and curls in on himself. I hesitate and he uses that against me; his hand shoots out and he grabs my ankle, wrenching it toward him and pulling me off balance. I gasp and catch myself before my back can hit the ground. He lunges for me and I scramble just out of reach. We both get back to our feet.

“Not as easy to take me down as Al made it look, huh?” He pants.

I shrug. “Depends.”

“Depends on what?” He swings and I move my head away, his fist comes to close that I can hear the air move next to my ear. As he retracts it I grab his wrist.

I twist his arm down and force him to move with it. He uses his other arm to swat helplessly in an attempt to get me to let go. He hits me in the face more than once, but I refuse to loosen my grip. I caught him with my left hand, which leaves the right one free to hit one more time and finish this. I punch him in the temple as hard as I know how and my hand stings from the blow, but it works. Will collapses and I catch him before he can hit the ground, slowly kneeling with him because I can’t hold up his dead weight.

“Well,” Eric says, “it looks like we have two initiates who have found their spines.”

I keep myself from glaring at him by keeping my eyes on Will. Christina helps me move him off the mat as Al steps up; he’s been pitted against Drew. If I had to guess, I would say that Al has this one. Maybe not in the bag, not something totally one-sided like Tris and Peter’s match was, but I think he’ll be able to eke out a win.

Will’s head is beginning to swell and Christina and I have to drag him off to the infirmary before the fight starts. He’s a bit taller than both of us, so we really are dragging him.

“Jesus Christ,” I hear someone mutter behind me a short bit before Will is pulled away from Christina and I. Four throws him over his shoulder and walks away. After a moment of surprise, Christina and I follow Before we’re even out of the training room, Will’s eyes flutter open.

“Hey,” Christina says.

Will mumbles incoherently and begins to try to walk on his own, which only results in him gently kicking Four in the thigh.

Christina giggles. “How’re you feeling.”

“Bad,” Will says, his voice suddenly clear.

“Aw, poor baby,” I say, patting his cheek.

He grunts. “Remind me again why I like you?”

I shrug. “Don’t know.”

Four all but drops him on the ground next to one of the concrete pillars and walks away.

“He’ll be fine,” he says. “No need to go to the infirmary.”

“You sure that it’s not because you don’t want to get chewed out by Nurse Phyllis again?” I say.

“Ice Queen, be quiet or the next fight you have will be against me.”

I don’t respond; instead, I focus on the fight. Al and Drew are very similar in their fighting styles, both strong but not at all fast and good at taking hits. They exchange blow after blow with not a lot of damage seeming to be done to either side. Then Al gets hit hard in the nose and goes down. Drew stands triumphantly, looking back at our instructors and being met with unimpressed looks.

“Well that was boring,” Eric says.

“Hey, big guy,” Christina says when he comes over to us. “Sorry about your fight.”

“Yeah, I thought you had that one” I say.

Al shrugs. “I don’t know. I just…I just don’t want to hurt anyone. It doesn’t seem right, you know?”

“We have to, though,” Will says. “It’s the only thing that will keep our heads above water.”

“Then maybe it’s just not worth it,” Al says, shaking his head. “You guys are my friends; I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hey.” Will wraps his arm around Al’s shoulders. “You know that I’m not upset about what happened yesterday, right? It was either you or me.”

“But it should have to be.” Al sighs. “Shouldn’t we be like…not be fighting members of our own faction? I mean, we’re supposed to be each other’s family, right?”

“Supposed to be,” Christina says. “But I think this is one of those really dysfunctional families that would sell each other to satan for a corn chip.”

We laugh, but Al’s statement still stands. As long as I can remember I’ve heard that the factions are meant to be like a family to you, a community to belong to, especially for the transfers. It’s why ‘faction before blood’ exists in the first place, because you’re supposed to belong within your faction more than you ever could in your family. I don’t feel that, not really, I am an outsider in Dauntless and I don’t really belong here. But I didn’t belong back in Erudite either and I don’t feel like I deserve to be a part of my family until I can manage to actually do something with my life.

But I look at my friends and I can actually see them being my family; I can see us making it through this and staying friends, simply always being a part of each other’s lives. We’re all different, but I’ve gotten close to them like I was close to my other friends. Initiation may be shit, but at least we have each other.

We slog through the rest of the fights, which are no more exciting than that. I would say that they’re actually more boring simply because I have no stake in who wins or loses. Most of my attention is pulled to Will and Christina, they talk quietly over the sound of skin hitting skin with the topic shifting and jumping back again that I can hardly keep up. Their mad giggles are met with odd looks from a few of their initiates, but largely the conversation fades into the background.

When the last person goes down, Eric stares at them for a moment with a blank look. Then he shrugs and says, “Okay, guess that’s it. Everyone out.”

“Wait,” Four says. “Today’s Saturday, that means you all just completed your first work of training, and you’re all still alive. Congratulations. Tomorrow, we’ll start on a schedule; Sundays and Saturdays will be devoted to combat training all day, weekdays will be target practice in the morning and sparring in the afternoon. So look forward to that. Now you can get out.”

“Wait.” Eric turns back around, stopping us again. “Bright and early next week you’ll all be going on a field trip out to the fence, where most of you will probably wind up after initiation. Be on the train at eight-fifteen. Four will be responsible for all you kiddies.” He flashes us a menacing grin. “Have fun.”

When we get to the infirmary, only the two who were helping her.

“How is she?” Will asks.

“Concussed,” says the man with yellow hair. “She’ll be fine though.”

“She’ll be sore,” says the woman. “Fine isn’t really the right word to be using with someone who was just beaten into unconsciousness.”

“Fine by Dauntless standards.”

The woman rolls her eyes in response. “You kids are welcome to stay until she wakes up. Phyllis already left to go chew out Eric and Four, but I’m Rini and that’s my brother, Sol, and we’ll be around if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” we all say in semi-unison.

“Let’s get you kids some ice for those bruises,” Nurse Sol says. He and Nurse Rini walk over to a giant freezer and begin scooping ice into plastic bags. I hold the one that they hand me to my face, letting the cold seep into my skin and take some of the pain away.

The four of us manage to share the two chairs by Tris’ bed; Christina and Al half hanging off of either end and Will and I packed in the middle.

“Is her eye already black?” Will says, leaning over Tris.

“Shut up,” Christina says. Tris groans and opens one eye, the other stays almost completely shut. She looks at each of us with a dazed expression and then settles on Christina, who’s face is beginning to bruise from the hits that Myra got before Christina beat her.

“What happened to your face?” she mumbles and her words come out a little slurred.

Christina laughs. “Look who’s talking. Should we get you an eyepatch?”

“Well I know what happened to my face,” she says. “I was there…sort of.”

“Did you just make a joke, Tris?” Will says, grinning. “We should get you on painkillers more often if you’re going to start cracking jokes. Oh and to answer your question, Myra happened.”

“I won, though,” Christina says. “Gotta say, she’s a lot better than I would have imagined. Also, Tris, you missed Will and Mimi kick the shit out of each other.”

“We should have placed bets,” Al says.

“I would I have won,” Christina says. “I knew Mimi had had one in the bag.”

Will rolls his eyes. “You’re only saying that because you constantly want me to lose.”

“Yeah, but I’m always right.” Christina smirks and Will grumbles.

“How are you feeling, Tris?” Al says, his eyes are wide with concern.

“Okay,” she says. “I just wish that I could stay here forever so that I never have to see Peter again.”

“Don’t worry about Peter,” Will says. “Edward will beat him tomorrow.”

“How can you be so sure?” she replies.

“They’ve been matching up people based on who wins their fights,” he says.

“Well that’s good,” Christina says and then looks down to check her watch. “I think that we’re missing dinner. Do you want us to stay, Tris, or bring you back something?”

Tris shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” I say. “We can just eat in here.” I turn back to look at Sol and Rini. “Right, is that okay?”

“That’s fine,” Rini says.

“No,” Tris says. “I just…I’m tired. Don’t worry.”

Christina, Will, and I stand but Al stays right where he is, shifting more onto the chair now the rest of us have vacated the space.

“I’ll be right behind you guys,” he says, “Go on ahead.”

The three of us leave.

“She’ll be fine,” Christina says. It sounds more like she’s trying to assure herself than us.

Will and I nod anyways. Tris is strong, maybe not physically but she’s Dauntless on the inside. She doesn’t have to act like Four or Eric for us to know how tough she is. It’s just something that we all know.

“I can’t stop thinking about what Al said,” Will says. “I mean, he’s right; we’re supposed to be a family and stuff.”

“Tell that to Peter,” Christina says. “He doesn’t exactly seem like a family man to me. Neither does Eric for that matter.”

“Yeah but…” Will frowns. “but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Like, isn’t that what people always tell you.” I nod along with him.

“It’s just something that people say,” Christina says. “Sure I heard that from, like, the teachers and stuff; but people never sugarcoated stuff like that in Candor. It’s a place that you live, and your life there is what you make it. Candor wasn’t really one big happy family either, everyone had their own little packs and we all just lived together.”

Oddly enough, this is the first I’ve heard of Candor in any sort of specifics. My sister lives there but she never talks about it, not really. She always says that she loves it there, but she never says very much beyond that.

“I guess that makes sense.” Will shakes his head. “Right, I guess it’s a little idealistic.”

“A little idealistic,” I repeat. I guess if I wanted my faction to be one big happy family I should have gone to Amity. I know Erudite, and I know that it’s nothing like that. Why would I expect anything more out of Dauntless?

“But we’re gonna be fine,” Christina says. “We’ve all got each other, the five of us. Who needs the rest of them?”

“Right,” I say flatly. “Who needs them?”

 

_September 13th, Year 499_

_Tris got matched up against Peter, it went about as well as anyone would have imagined. I mean, we all kept saying that she would be just fine because we all know just how strong she is but she got her ass kicked. Because of course she did. I don’t know who decided that was a good idea, pitting the second best fighter (though I write that very begrudgingly) against the tiny girl with virtually no muscle mass. Most of Tris’ strength resides inside of her, it’s the kind that propelled her off the roof and can’t quite be measured by tests of strength or speed._

_Me, well I went up against Will and won; though it wasn’t easy. But as much as I would like to stay ahead in the rankings, part of me would much rather be like her. She can’t quite live up to Eric’s ridiculous standards, but there’s no denying that she’s Dauntless on the inside. I would give anything to belong like she does because I just can’t. I don’t know how to let go of the parts of me that are Erudite like she has let go of the parts of her that are Abnegation. Who have I ever been without Erudite, without their principles and values as my guiding force and what I compared myself against? I don’t know how to just be Dauntless, I hardly know what it really looks like and I certainly don’t know how to mimic it. Part of me still wants to be what everyone wants me to be, and part of me wants to do the exact opposite of that but I don’t know how. I can’t exactly do both; I guess the path of least resistance would be to just do neither, just keep moving forward and see where life takes me. But I am so sick of just coasting through life with no direction or purpose; I just want to be someone and be that knowing that I chose to be that way for myself and not because it was the path of least resistance, or because it was the only think that I felt like I could do, or because it was something that someone else wanted for me._

_Theoretically, my existential crisis should wait until I’m done with initiation; provided I make it out of this alive and still a part of the faction, then I’ll have all the time in the world to stress about the fact that I don’t really know what I want for myself beyond the goals I’ve always felt was expected of me. My interest in politics is kind of complicated, I guess; it’s genuine in the sense that I’ve grown up watching from the sidelines and knowing just how important it all is and how much the Faction Council does for the city but I’ve also felt that it was just what I was sort of fated for because that’s what almost my entire family does. I know that I’ve said that I don’t believe in fate, and I don’t; I think that it’s a half-assed excuse for hardly exercising any autonomy within one’s own life. But I have always wanted to uphold my family’s legacy, that is something that I am very keenly aware of how important it is. The best way to do that, I think, would be to rise as high as I can in Dauntless and that just so happens to be a leadership position; and not just any leadership position, I want to take over for Max one day. My entire family leads and I feel like I should to, because it’s just what I’ve always wanted to do. Still, now that I have the chance to change that I’m scared to. I don’t know of a better way to be like them, and maybe I shouldn’t try because ‘faction before blood’ or whatever, but I hate that phrase. I don’t want to be a total disappointment, I mean my parents have never really been very keen on Dauntless and so I’m sure my transferring here was not something that they approve of; but there has to be something that I can do that might help that. After all, Dauntless can’t possibly be all Fours and Erics; brainless, heartless muscle. After all, every faction has something beautiful and worthwhile about it; and this was once Kira’s home, how bad could it possibly be if it produced someone as wonderful as her?_

_I wonder how they’re all doing, my friends. I’m sure that they’re all just fine, they always knew exactly where they belonged in a way that I never did and refused to let any sort of fear stand in their way. I’m sure that Casey’s loving Amity, I’m sure that she’s happy; I just sometimes wish that I could be there with her. She is my oldest and closest friend, we share a bond that makes us practically family but now I have to come to terms with the fact that years from now we’re going to begin to forget about each other. I have to face the fact that we’re never going to be as close as we were, we probably won’t ever even see each other again except for maybe in City Center in passing when we don’t speak because she’s just another Amity and I’m just another Dauntless. This girl who was my dearest friend, who knew every secret about me but one is nothing more than a stranger now. I’m supposed to make new friends, and I have, but I don’t know if I’ll ever really share a bond with Tris and the others that I did with Casey. There’s just something special about growing up with someone that nothing can ever replace._

_Eliza, I know, is going to be just fine. Eliza is strong and capable, she has more drive in her pinky than I have in my whole body. She belongs in Erudite just like she has always known and, in part, because she has always known. I wouldn’t be surprised if Eliza became a department head or took on some other prestigious position. She’s going to be great, and I’m never going to see it. Years from now I won’t even care, it won’t be any of my business whether I’m Dauntless or factionless because I’m not Erudite and most other factions don’t give a shit about each other’s in house politics. I’m as guilty of this as anyone else; I can’t name the other three Dauntless leaders who are basically irrelevant outside of Dauntless’ own government, I can’t name any of the justices Minerva works with, or even the Abnegation Council members. I can name every Erudite department head and most of their family members though, however that second bit is really only because I’ve met them in person more than once. Most of them are friends (the word ‘friends’ is used in the loosest possible sense here) of my parents and in my sixteen years of life I have been dragged to many, many social events held by Erudite’s rich and powerful. Those events are how I met Eliza, actually; her parents aren’t department heads, but they’re well respected in their field and also incredibly wealthy. For her, those events will finally become interesting as she rises to prominence and becomes both a part of the conversations and a topic of it._

_Kira is going to be amazing; that’s hardly even speculation, it’s almost just fact. She’s so legitimately and unapologetically fascinated by anything and everything that it makes her a textbook Erudite. She could do practically anything and she’ll probably try pretty much everything. Her passion isn’t for one specific subject, she doesn’t have one singular talent, she doesn’t have a ‘niche’; Kira’s passion is for learning as a whole. As long as there are things left in the world to learn about, you can bet that she’ll always be right there studying them. She’s the perfect Erudite, learning more simply because she can learn more and not out of any want for power or anything else. Kira is a near and dear friend of mine who I do wish that I’d gotten to have more time with. We met when we were thirteen and it was like a piece of a puzzle falling into place. Dauntless or not, she belonged with us; Casey, Eliza, and I. We might not have been the friends she spent the most time around or even the ones that she was supposed to have, but we understood her and she fit with us. And we knew her, I knew her and I cared about her; I wasn’t allowed to bring her over to my house to hang out or even bring her into the Erudite sector because there were rules against that, but we hung out where we could and managed to be close without constant contact. Kira never spoke much of her experience with Dauntless; I don’t really know why, maybe she just didn’t think that we cared all that much especially the way that Erudite as a whole has a tendency to look down on the Dauntless in a way that I’m totally guilty of doing myself and feel genuinely bad for. Whatever her reasons, she didn’t; though we sort of drew our own conclusions anyways. I assume, from the genuine and down to earth way that Kira had acted with us from day one, that she didn’t really feel a lot or pressure to conform to that sort of Dauntless mold that all the other factions see._

_That’s what makes me think that there has to be something deeper; that it can’t all be brutes and daredevils. I mean, there’s the medical staff so that’s something, right? I know that every faction is different, hell, haven’t I said before that Erudite is far more complex than the emotionless machines that we’re they’re made out to be? People are complicated, groups of people even more so, and I think that on some level we all know that we’re wrong about all the other factions. I don’t really like Candor, I find their demeanor just generally kind of irritating, but I know that they’re not all like that because I know Candor and former Candor who aren’t. Christina and Al are both genuinely fun people to be around and not just a constant stream of drivel that’s barely intelligible because they don’t really bother to take the time to think about their words before they say them. I actually find a lot of their commentary to be funny rather than annoying. It’s all just sort of complicated. I guess I should have figured that out by now; in retrospect it’s sort of obvious. After all, both because of my brain thing (I still don’t like even writing the word) and because I’m a person, I contain multitudes and contradictions. I am smart, and brave, and kind; I have all the benefits and probably most of the drawbacks of being those three things. I can’t just be shoved into a single box because I’m going to do things in my life that will contradict those labels; I’m going to be afraid, I’m going to make stupid mistakes, I’m going to be mean to some people. It’s just a thing that happens to me, I suppose I should just go ahead and get comfortable with it. God knows I’ve written about the issue enough, danced around it and treated the actual label with more caution than I have any swear word ever._

_Part of me feels like I’m being a little overdramatic about this, part of me feels like I am being exactly dramatic as I deserve to be given the fact that I’ve only very recently been informed that I have an anomaly that makes me separate from pretty much everyone else. Maybe that should make me feel special or unique or something, but it doesn’t. Instead, I just feel like a pariah waiting to happen or like some sort of freak; I feel like an outsider because I am an outsider, because I can’t fit like anyone else does. Those goddamn labels and boxes that no one can really fit into completely I extra cannot fit into. I saw the chart, Maria explained to me how aptitudes work; I know that there’s supposed to be a single majority in the brain that rises a considerable amount above the rest and that brings with it all sorts of benefits and drawbacks, but they’re common and understandable benefits and drawbacks. Me, I’m a grab-bag of who-the-hell-knows-what; maybe only some of the flaws and maybe all of them at once. I don’t know what I am beyond just…undefinable. But I don’t know how to convince myself that’s a good thing, I don’t think it is a good thing. I just want to live up to all of this potential that I’m supposed to have, I just want to be the best person that I can be, I just want to belong somewhere._

_Initiation can check maybe two of those three boxes. No amount of target practice or sparring will ever make me purely Dauntless, will ever magically get rid of this **thing** that I’m going to have to deal with for the rest of my life because of some mutation in my genetic code or something. All it can do is give me a little boost up that ladder to the top that I so desperately want to climb. My biggest competition right now are Peter and Edward, they’re the best of us (no matter how much I hate admitting that in Peter’s case, trust me it’s a lot). They’re stronger than me, faster than me, larger than me, better fighters than me, better shots than me. Basically all that I have going for me is that I’m smarter than them. However, my intelligence isn’t going to stop me from getting punched in the face. I guess that I’ll just have to want it more than they do too; I’ll have to practice until I can’t get it wrong, I’ll have to just keep practicing no matter how frustrating it all becomes. If only because it’s a step toward my ambitions, if only because it will keep me from becoming factionless, if only because I’ve already decided that I want to be Dauntless more than I’ve ever wanted anything._

_Four said that initiation will push us to our breaking point; well I refuse to be broken, not after only a week and a half of training. I’m sure that things will only become more difficult for us the longer that my class collectively refuses to break down. I’m sure that Four and Eric will only think of more devious shit to throw our way just because they can. But I have to just keep trying to keep my head down around Eric, because he’s really the worse of the two, and survive. I’ll have to get my shit together and quick, because I’ll have to fight Peter eventually and I’m not sure that my pride will survive if I lose that fight. I’ll just have to do the best that I can, because that’s all I can do, and because there’s no getting around the fact that I absolutely have to._


	12. Tracks

A week later is our field trip to the fence. We’re all wiped from training; this whole five days straight of sparring is really kicking our collective asses. Even Edward is covered in bruises. Thankfully, the week passed without some sort of terrible and nearly fatal incident. Not to say that there haven’t been injuries, we’re literally beating each other into unconsciousness, of course there are going to be injuries. However, no one has been hung over the Chasm and Tris hasn’t had to fight Peter again. Surprisingly enough, I haven’t had to fight Peter either; though I’m sure I will soon. I’ve been trying to go in early most days and sometimes even after hours, though I don’t do that second part very often at all because I do want to still be able to hang out to my friends. Though we’re never especially energetic after training, we have tried to enjoy ourselves in the Pit and try to act like the Dauntless that we’re trying to become. I must say, I’m still not entirely used to just the general atmosphere of it all; it’s so different than everything I’ve ever known, but I guess that’s just Dauntless in general.

We don’t have to be at the tracks until eight-fifteen, but most of us wake up at six anyways because that’s what we’ve gotten used to, with the exception of Tris. She’s still recovering from her fight with Peter on top of the constant grind of day to day training. She’s not doing so hot in her fights, mostly because she’s constantly sore and has absolutely no time to recover. We’re all pretty banged up, but Tris has been taking a beating pretty much since we started sparring. Almost everyone but her has managed to eke out at least one win. I don’t really think that it’s something that any of us really like, except for maybe Peter, I’m just not sure if I’ll ever really get used to the idea of striking my friends and future faction members who are supposed to be like a family to me, who are supposed to replace my actual family, and for what? What is the point of having us fight until we’re passed out on the mat? It’s not fun for anyone really; I mean, I guess that Eric and Four might think that it’s fun to watch, but it’s not like anyone’s really benefiting from this. I guess in theory the pressure of it all is just supposed to force a change in us that will make us dedicated to learning the techniques so that we aren’t constantly winding up in the infirmary, but I think the exact same pressure comes with the constant knowledge that people are going to be cut. It’s nerve wracking, knowing that I might lose out on my spot in Dauntless at the end of these first five weeks because I couldn’t win enough fights. Erudite cuts people too, but the challenges were never physical and none of that even happened until the end. I’m not even sure how we’re being scored so that I can adjust my habits to accommodate that to rack up the maximum amount of points possible to make up for my slightly subpar fighting skills.

_And there’s the Erudite in me_ , I think. _Good to know that’s still around. Not. Better make sure that nothing close to that ever comes out of my mouth._

The most terrifying part of being… _that_ is that I don’t recognize how weird some of my thinking is until after I’ve thought it; which I find concerning to say the very least. At least when I mouth off it’s with people that I know aren’t all that important. Four’s my initiation instructor, but for all of his faults I seriously doubt that he’s going to fail me because he finds me to be mildly irritating. Eric though, I really try to stay out of his way as much as I can and when I can’t I’m polite as humanly possible. After what he did to Christina for something as benign and understandable as forfeiting a fight she couldn’t win, I don’t want to imagine how he might react if I spoke to him the way that I speak to Four. He laughed when Four mentioned I was one of his ‘problem students’ but I don’t ever want him to see for himself that I am. I am even wary about talking back to Four within an earshot of him, Four may not like Eric but I honest to god have no idea what Eric’s relationship to Four is and I don’t want to get myself in trouble with Eric by insulting Four.

Christina, Molly, Myra, and I all get ready in mostly silence. We don’t talk to Molly much, Christina especially ever since the incident, but it’s not like she makes any effort to befriend us either. I’ve already decided that I dislike Molly based on what she did to Christina and the fact that she associates with Peter, but I see no reason to be openly mean to her until the opportunity presents itself. I’m sure that she already knows I don’t like her, as the Candor are pretty in tune with other people’s emotions despite how tone deaf most of them act, and I’m sure that she’s no fonder of me, I would rather that we go on silently hating each other rather than loudly. My hateful relationship with Peter (and basically most everyone’s hateful relationship with Peter, because I know for a fact that Edward and Myra think he’s an asshole too and the other initiates tend to avoid him whenever possible) is enough tension for the dorm room, I really don’t think that his friends also need to get involved.

Today is the first day that I can wear makeup again and actually bother with my hair, because I won’t sweat it all off or get punched in the face for the first time in two weeks. Though I know that this isn’t technically a break, and I’m sure that Four will find a way to suck any traces of fun out of it, I’m still excited; it’s still the first time that I’ve left the Dauntless compound as a Dauntless (well, Dauntless-in-training) and the first time I’ve had the full sun shine on my face in two and a half weeks. There are skylights in some of the public areas like the bridge over the Chasm and the Pit, but that’s not really the same.

But as I’m getting ready, a thought occurs to me. Today is Jeanine’s birthday, and this is really the first time that I haven’t been around for that. Like I said, she’s kind of part of our family; we care about that sort of thing and every year without fail my parents do a dinner thing for her that takes hours to prepare and days to plan, but they still do it. I used to help frost the cake, because that was really the one thing that I was good at, and a few days in advance my mom or my dad and I would go out shopping for gifts. I miss her; I miss being around my family. I don’t even have my phone to send her a quick text because I left that at home and I’m sure that even if I wanted to, it would probably be frowned upon because ‘faction before blood’. It’s still bullshit, I mean I can sort of appreciate wanting people to form a bone-sunk loyalty to their factions but I don’t think that has to come at the expense of your family. I know better than anyone that freedom and family don’t cancel each other out; I’ve seen it happen with Mark and Minerva and now I’m experiencing it myself. They’re still my siblings, they’re still my parents’ children, I still love them and they still love me. We see each other every year on Visiting Day even though that’s only supposed to be a one or two time thing. It’s not like other families don’t do it; I know very specifically of a few of my parents’ friends’ children who, rather than their parents going out to see them on Visiting Day, they go back to Erudite. Despite what some would have us believe, continuing to love your family after the Choosing Ceremony is not quite the taboo that some people make it out to be. I wish that I could impress this on Al, who still sometimes cries at night. I feel so awful for him, but I know that he doesn’t want us to comfort him. He’s acknowledged that we can hear him, but I’m sure that he finds it at least mildly embarrassing. I really don’t want to meddle in his personal life like that. Close as we’re becoming, it’s not really my place.

“You go on ahead.” Christina waves me off in the direction of the dining hall when we get out into the hallway. We usually wait for each other and then Tris, Will, and Al so that we can all go to breakfast together.

Will comes out of the bathroom a minute later, seeming to have the same idea that I did with the makeup thing.

“I’m going to go check on Tris. Make sure that she’s up and whatever, it might take a while.”

“Al also said he’d catch up with us later,” Will says.

Christina disappears into the dorm and I turn to Will as we start walking. “And then there were two.”

“Gotta say, that eyeshadow really brings out the yellow in the bruise on your jaw,” Will says, gesturing to my face.

“You’re funny,” I say in a deadpan voice. “I really like how your poorly done concealer almost manages to cover up your black eye.”

Will chuckles. “Yeah, I know. If you think that you can do better, be my guest. I would seriously appreciate it.”  
I roll my eyes but don’t respond, mostly because I probably couldn’t do better.

He gives me a proud smirk like he’s won something. I guess in a way he has; my silence. As mean as Will and I pretend to be to each other, we really do get along exceptionally well. We kind of just click, like how I do with the others but also in a way that I don’t feel like I ever have to explain anything to him because he just gets it. We have exactly the same sense of humor, that deadpan bite that Christina took to pretty quickly but Al and Tris understand but don’t really participate in. They’re too sweet for the teasing insults, and in turn I try to avoid insulting them because I remember when Tris and I were just getting to know each other (though in a lot of ways we still are) and she thought I was serious about her not knowing anything and that it was some sort of dig at her, and how it seemed to genuinely upset her. I don’t want to do that again; Tris is my friend and I can understand how that sort of humor wouldn’t translate with people who have never encountered it before.

But Will and I just kind of feed off of each other’s energy, and yeah sometimes we sort of slip off into our own conversation totally separate from the group because we share experiences just like Christina and Al do. It’s just another example of how our birth factions never really leave us, and how we can’t just be expected to let go of it all the moment we transfer out. There are aspects of my life and parts of me that exist specifically because I was Erudite and Will, Edward, Myra, and the other Erudite transfers too I guess – though I’ve never really bothered to talk to any of them – can understand that in a way that the others can’t. Nothing against them, of course, they have their own unique and shared experiences specific to Candor, Amity, and Abnegation respectively that I could never hope to gain a full grasp on.

Will nods. “That’s one of the things I love about you, I never have to explain that I’m joking. Mostly because you’re a lot meaner to me than I am to you.”

I roll my eyes. “What a convoluted way of admitting that I’m smarter than you.”

“In your very egotistical dreams.” He gives me a light shove.

“Ooh, ‘ _egotistical’_. Wow, you used a big word.” I laugh and shove him back.

“Oh, shut up.” He snickers. “We can’t all be walking dictionaries; and you, dear friend of mine, are not even close to the,” he clears his throat and starts talking in a voice obviously meant to mimic the high society Erudite, “proper and well-spoken lady,” his voice drops back to normal, “that you think you are. We’re all Dauntless now, and if you’ve ever heard any of them speak I’m sure that you know there’s no room for anything like that here.”

“Won’t stop me from trying,” I say. “I’m not about to reduce my vocabulary to pebbles because fucking Four has never opened a book in his life.”

“You’re so goddamn mean, you know that right?” We enter the dining hall and move through the line to get our food. “Like, I know that it’s no secret but you will literally jump on the people you don’t like for everything at every opportunity.”

I shrug as I pick up a muffin. “If I see an opening than I’m going for it. It isn’t even a thing with him specifically; Peter and Eric are just as easy to make fun of, he just happened to be the first name to pop into my head while saying that particular sentence.”

“Hey, you don’t have to justify yourself to me. It’s just an observation. Better them than me, right?”

I nudge him with my shoulder. “The difference is that I actually like you.”

“Aw.” Will touches his hand to his heart, nearly splashing his coffee on his shirt. “I’m touched. I can almost see the ice around your heart starting to melt.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m already regretting that statement.”

We sit down at the table next to each other, both of us propping our feet up on the chairs across from us in near unison.

“So,” he says, “excited for our first time outside the compound as Dauntless?”

“Excited to not be breathing the same stale air anymore. I mean it’s cool I guess, but I don’t really expect to be stuck out guarding the fence at any point.”

“Oh really?” Will tips his chair back on its hind legs and takes a sip of his coffee. “Why am I not surprised? So what do you ‘expect’ to do?”

“Leadership.” I lower my voice, “I’d actually like Eric’s job if I can find a way to swing it.”

“I’m pretty sure that he would disembowel you if he heard you say that.”

“Who’s disemboweling people?” Al appears with a tray in his hands. He sits a few seats down from me.

“Eric, if Mimi keeps openly talking about the fact that she’s gunning for his job,” Will says and Al almost spits out his orange juice in response.

“Is that why you’re so nice around him?” he says after he swallows. “Because you don’t want him to know?”

“I figure that I better make a good impression now before he’s my boss. There’s plenty of time to be mean later.”

“Can’t wait to see that,” Will says. “Dude’s going to mount your head on the wall of his office.”

I shrug. “You have such little faith in me and I am, frankly, very insulted by it.”

“That’s not true.” Will takes another bite of his food and the uses his fork to gesture at me. “I think you’ll make a great leader if you somehow manage to avoid getting disemboweled and/or decapitated by the guy who’s job you want.”

“Thanks?” I shoot him a confused look over my coffee. “If that was indeed a compliment?”

Will nods. “It was.”

“Gee,” I say flatly. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome.” He grins as he takes another bite of his potatoes.

When we’re done with breakfast we head up to the train tracks. We’re early, save for the few other initiates milling around. I’m learning quickly that there’s absolutely nothing to do in the mornings at Dauntless, it’s a good thing that I’m so dedicated to training otherwise so much of my mornings would just be spent standing around doing nothing. I sit down on a crate next to the building and let a small smile spread across my face. It’s nice to be above ground again, to look up and see the bright blue sky and breathe in the fresh air. It’s cold for September, or maybe I’ve just grown used to the heated Dauntless compound.

“Where are they?” Will puts his hands on his hips and looks around. “They should have been here by now.”

“Do you think something’s wrong?” Al says. “Should we go check on them?”

“Guys, chill. I’m sure they’re fine,” I say. “Tris has been pretty messed up since her fight with Peter. I’m sure that she’s just kind of ache-y.”

Not a minute later, Tris and Christina emerge from the compound right as the train arrives.

“What took so long?” Will shouts over the noise of the train.

“Stumpy legs over here is going full old lady on us.” Christina jabs her thumb at Tris.

Tris rolls her eyes. “Oh shut up.”

We all break into a slow run together. Four jumps into one of the last cars and I suppose that we’re all meant to get in that one too. I notice him lingering almost in the doorway, catching Myra as she slips and pulling her up. It’s a step up from the last time we jumped on, I guess now that we’re all here they really don’t want us missing the train.

Behind me, I can hear Tris already breathing heavily. It’s not exactly fun for any of us, we’re all sore after two and a half weeks of training, but she very recently got the hell beaten out of her. This must be killing her.

I jump on after Will; it’s much easier this time probably because I’m not running on a platform that’s two feet wide with a hundred or so people and in high heels. Doesn’t stop Will from giving me shit about it though.

“Ay!” He claps me on the shoulder. “Look who made it on without twisting her ankle.”

“I’m going to fight you,” I say flatly.

“You already did, remember?”

“I’ll fight you again.”

Al helps Tris on, basically leans out the door and plucks her off the ground, setting her back down once she’s safely inside the train.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her.

She gives a halfhearted groan in response and gazes warily at Peter, who is giving her a very predatory grin.

“Feeling okay there?” he says while trying not to laugh. “Or are you a little… _Stiff_.” He howls with laughter at his own joke and then Drew and Molly join in.

“We are all awed by your incredible wit,” Will says with zero inflection to his voice whatsoever. “Truly you must be god’s gift to sass.”

“Are you sure you don’t belong in Erudite, Peter?” Christina joins in. “I hear they don’t object to sissies.”

Without thinking about it at all I say, “Oh come on, Christina, I think it’s pretty damn obvious he’s not cut out for Erudite; I mean you can count his IQ on a single hand. Erudite does have standards after all. But comedy in general…his complete joke of an existence could probably get a chuckle out of the audience.”

Peter’s upper lip curls. “Maybe if you ran like your mouth you’d be doing better in training, Ice Queen.”

“Peter, I don’t really think that you’re in any position to talk about anyone being better when you’re so disliked across the board.”

“Am I going to have to listen to you guys bicker all the way to the fence?!” Four snaps before Peter can retort.

We don’t say another word for a while but Christina laughs under her breath, only growing worse at hiding it when she notices Peter, Molly, and Drew’s glares.

Eventually, Tris breaks the silence. She turns to us and says, “What do you think is out there? Beyond the wall, I mean.”

“Wind and solar farms,” Will says. “Actual farms.”

“No but,” she makes a gesture like she’s throwing something, “way out there. Past all of that.”

Christina wiggles her fingers. “Monsters!”

“Nothing probably,” I guess. “No civilization, no life; just a whole lot of empty space.”

“But then what would we need the guards for?” Tris says. “If it’s really just a bunch of cattle, crops, and solar panels then what’s the point of having a whole team of people watching it all the time?”

“Well we didn’t even really have most of the guards out by the wall until like five years ago, remember?” Will says. “Don’t you remember when most of Dauntless police used to patrol the factionless sector?”

Tris and I both nod. The choice was left up to the Faction Council alone and I remember my mother being less than pleased with the outcome, something about it being a waste of resources or something. She’s probably right, but I don’t mention any of that now.

“Oh right,” Will says to Tris. “You probably saw the factionless all the time, right?”

“Why do you say that?” she says, suddenly defensive.

“Because you had to pass the larger part of the factionless sector to get to school, right?” As he explains, Tris seems to soften.

Christina snorts. “What did you do, memorize a map of the city for fun?”

“Of course,” Will says, his eyes flicker over to me. “Right, Mimi?”

“Oh no.” I laugh. “You’re on your own in this one, you fucking nerd.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I forgot, you were probably swallowing entire dictionaries whole; my bad.”

“You two are both nerds.” Christina shakes her head.

Our conversation is cut short as the train comes to a stop, the breaks squealing and all of us lurching forward. Most of us manage to keep our balance, but Will, who was leaning against the wall, almost falls over and Christina tries to catch him but her smaller stature leaves her unable to right him on his feet. He caught himself with his hands behind her neck and she grins, putting her hands on his waist.

“Careful.”

“Oh,” Will dramatically closes his eyes and puts his hand to his forehead. “I’m swooning. Thank you, fair Lady Christina, for–” She lets go and he shrieks but Al catches him at the last second.

“Cool it on the theatrics maybe,” he says with a laugh as he rights Will on his feet.

“An astute point, Sir Al.”

“Shut up.”

We all get off under an awning. Out here there’s practically nothing, just a lot of field and a near forest of overgrown flora that’s been there for so long it’s little more than just another part of our environment. Ahead of us is the wall, which is even taller than the Hub. The bottom half is made of solid concrete and the top is metal and wire with gangplanks running across it. I’d imagine that the metal must have once been shiny gray and new, but five hundred years have rendered it a tired rust color. That said, it’s not anywhere close to being in disrepair. Most of the guards are around the upper part of the wall, little black dots high above us, but we’re near the gate as well where about eight surly looking Dauntless stand, all straightening as they notice us. The gate is twice the size of my house and that same rust color as the top half of the wall. I can’t imagine how it ever opens, but I know that it must every so often so that the Amity farmers and Erudite technicians can check up on the setups out there.

“Follow me,” Four says. He leads us up toward the gate, none of the guards speak as we approach; they hardly acknowledge we’re even here at all, they just stare off into space.

“If you don’t rank in the top fifteen at the end of initiation than it’s likely you will end up out here,” he says, walking backwards so that he can look at us as he talks and a not so small part of me hopes that he trips. Sue me for being a little petty. “Once you become a fence guard there are a few opportunities for advancement but not much. It’s mostly just things like going out on patrols beyond the wall or accompanying the farmers and techs that have to go out. For-”

“Wait,” Will interrupts him and Four not at all subtly rolls his eyes. “Patrols for what purpose?”

“I guess you’ll find out if this is where you wind up. As I was saying, for the most part those who guard the fence when they’re young continue to do so into the rest of their adult lives. If it comforts you, some of them insist that the job isn’t as bad as it seems; it’s steady and not all that difficult.”

“At least we won’t be driving busses or cleaning up other people’s messes like the factionless,” Christina mutters.

“Your Candor is showing,” I whisper back and she glares at me but smiles when she does.

“What rank were you?” Peter says.

I don’t expect him to give an answer, going off of the conversation I had with him my first night in Dauntless the guy seems to enjoy being cryptic and vague for no discernable reason. I’m surprised for more than one reason when he says, “I was first.”

“And you chose to do this?” Peter says incredulously. “Why didn’t you get a government job?”

Though I hate to admit it, I can actually agree with Peter on this one thing. The ways that leadership is better than training a bunch of teenage idiots are pretty obvious.

“I didn’t want one,” he says flatly.

Okay, that’s actually understandable. Politics really isn’t for everyone and I can’t possibly imagine Four doing especially well in that environment. Eric is bad enough, but the thought of Four sloughing through an ocean of paperwork and exchanging niceties with other prominent faction members, dressed to the nines and a smile plastered on his face, is almost laughable.

Me though, I would do anything to get there. I would give anything to be one of the greats and it’s why I’m so determined to do well during initiation. I can’t help but be enchanted by the idea of it all, though I haven’t got a clue what sort of version of that life Dauntless might hold for me. But more than that, I just feel like there’s something that I can offer this world. I want to help people but not as a police officer or anything, I want to make an impact that will last.

We stop up next to the gate and one of the guards gestures for us to move back. They punch in a code and activates some sort of mechanism that opens up the massive gate. Upon it rising out of the ground I can clearly see it’s thicker than I am and there’s a place where it’s worn into the ground from resting there over the centuries. Two vehicles pass through, a silver car that then immediately accelerates away from us, and a truck with an open back.

A man with a straw hat and beard gets out of the driver’s seat and begins talking to one of the guards. In the back of the truck other Amity sit on crates talking and laughing. Most of them are young, my age, maybe even this year’s initiate class. But none of them are Casey.

“Mimette?” My eldest brother, Mark, stands up and stares down at me. He jumps down from the truck bed and walks over to me. It’s been a little while since I’ve seen Mark long enough to actually speak to him. Nine years ago he left Erudite for Amity and now he’s the faction representative. He’s another part of that legacy that I just have to live up to.

“Hey, Mark.” He hugs me before I can think stop him. I’m aware that there are people watching me, and that faction before blood is kind of a big deal. But Mark is a faction representative, I don’t exactly think that anyone’s going to call him out.

“What have you been up too?” he asks when he lets go of me, but I remain in his shadow. Mark is really tall, almost a full foot taller than I am, he might be pretty intimidating if he weren’t such an easy going and positive person.

I shrug. “Initiation, uh, obviously.”

He gives my upper arm a light squeeze and I have to fight the urge to wince. “Your arms are starting to feel like Minerva’s.”

I chuckle. Minerva would have a much easier time in Dauntless than me; because she’d be pretty adept at the physical stuff, but also because she has less patience for bullshit than I do and is considerably more intimidating than I am.

“Mimette,” Mark tips his head to the side, a slightly concerned look on his face, “is everything going alright?”

I force a smile, one far more confident than the way that I feel. “Just fine.”

“Mimette?” A very, very annoying voice repeats right on my heels. “It’s that a little uppity for someone who looked like they crawled out of a ditch.”

I all but roll my eyes into the back of my head and turn around slowly to face Peter, who is smirking in a sort of way that makes me want to punch him.

“Wow,” I drawl. “ _’Uppity_ ,’ how impressive, Peter. You used a big word _and_ managed to string more than ten words together in a sentence. Keep working at it and maybe someday you’ll be off giving speeches about the meaning of life and generally enlightening mankind.”

“Mimette.” Mark puts his hands on my shoulders and smiles down at me. “Don’t.” Then he turns that smile on Peter, but it’s cold and unnatural looking. “You must be one of Mimette’s fellow initiates. I’m Mark, her older brother; and you are?”

Peter scoffs. “Suddenly need big brother to protect you?”

I move out of Mark’s grip, wishing that my cheeks didn’t flush the way that they do. “No. Don’t you have something better to do than bother me, like go kick puppies or something?”

“Now, now there’s no need to be rude.” Mark is still smiling but he looks like he could deck Peter. He takes a step closer and the shadow that he casts passes over Peter. “I don’t think that I caught your name.”

I guess that Peter finds it as unsettling as I do, because he leaves without another word.

“Mark,” calls the older man with the beard, “we’re leaving.”

Mark hugs me again quickly. “I love you, Mimette. I’ll see you on Visiting Day.”

I hug him back this time. “I love you too. If you see Casey Diarmond tell her that, uh…that I send my love.”

We part and he climbs back into the truck, where one of the younger girls begins strumming a banjo. I watch them as they drive away, and only when they’re hardly more than a blip on the horizon do I remember that I never even got the chance to mention to Mark that I changed my name.

“Who was Big Mc-Large-Huge?” Christina walks up next to me.

“My brother.” I’m still staring off into space, but out of the corner of my eye I notice Four glaring at me over Tris’ head as he talks to her. He must not have approved of the conversation, not that I actually care in any capacity.

“ _That’s_ your brother?” Christina gives me a quizzical look. We begin to walk to the train as Four waves us back.

“One of them,” I say. “I’ve got two.” As much as it shouldn’t, it feels like a bit of the weight in my chest has been lifted. It was just so nice to see Mark again, to just be reminded that no matter how far away we are our family is never really gone. Honestly it was kind of something that I needed; I still feel a little bit homesick and I do wish that I could be back in Erudite to spend time with Jeanine.

Christina looks at me, still looking a little confused. “You’re not going to get that tall, are you?”

I laugh; and for once I don’t bother to forcibly remind myself that I’m supposed to be happy here. I just laugh and let my mixed emotions stir around inside of me. I take one last look back at the fence before getting back on the train, and just like that our little day in the sun is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! Senior year is just buckwild y'all. Happy 2019, hope to have this monster fic finished this year.


	13. Tradition

_September 23_ _ rd _ _, Year 499_

_I had to fight Molly today. I would like to say that fighting her was just another round of sparring and that I didn’t feel anything while doing it, but that would be a lie. In a way I did kind of let my anger over what she did to Christina drive me. I wasn’t as brutal as she was, not even close, but I wasn’t exactly nice. Though I suspect that’s exactly what Eric and Four want out of us; they want us to be merciless and fierce, lacking in basic compassion for our fellow initiates and just fellow human beings in general. But that’s not me, I can’t just let go of my compassion. Angry at her as I was, I have no desire to hurt Molly in any serious way. It sucks to lose a fight, it’s a blow to your pride and a lot of pain you’ll have to deal with for days to come. I’ve won and lost a few fights, I know what it feels like to be on both ends. I’ve been fortunate that I haven’t quite been beaten like Tris and Christina have, but I don’t think that I could ever bring myself to hurt someone like that. I don’t like Molly by any stretch of the imagination, but I won’t make her suffer; she doesn’t deserve that._

_Even though it’s been almost a month since I began my time here in Dauntless, I still haven’t become more comfortable with the idea of fighting and knocking out my fellow initiates. I can appreciate learning to fight both as a useful skill and an integral part of Dauntless culture, but it just doesn’t sit right with me. I know that Christina’s right and it’s really idealistic, but your faction is supposed to be your family. You devote everything you have and everything you are to this community of people because you share the same convictions that they do and in turn they take you in without judgements. Who you were ceases to matter, all that matters now is who you are now and who you can be. Honestly that’s kind of what drew me here in some ways. No one here knows the person that I was and that means that I can be whoever I want. I don’t have to be the perfect daughter or even a perfect person. I don’t have to do anything that I don’t want to and in theory I could abandon all those dreams that I used to have and the pressure that I feel to live up to my family’s name and just chase down adventure wherever that leads me. It’s all up to me now and sometimes that terrifies me and sometimes it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. If I wanted to, I could just not care about anything that I used to and let it all go. I could take faction before blood to heart and just disappear from my family. I would never do that, of course, I love them more than I can possibly say; more than factions, more than money or power, more than my own life. There is nothing in this world that I wouldn’t do for them and that they wouldn’t do for me. We’re all stuck with each other, Minerva used to say, now and forever. Maybe that makes me a faction traitor; maybe that makes me the exact kind of dangerous that Maria warned me I was, but I honestly don’t really care all that much. I’m always going to love my family, nothing could ever possibly take that from me. If that makes me some freak; than consider me the freakiest._

_I don’t really mean that. I think that there will always be a part of me that wants to fit here in Dauntless like all the others do, to just be another piece of the puzzle that falls into place. But there will always be parts of me that wonder what might have been too; with Casey and Mark in Amity, filled with nothing but carefree joy and far from any sort of violence or pain; back in Erudite with my parents, the twins, and all the people that we’re they’re tied to. I would have gone through initiation with Eliza and Kira and we would have helped each other survive; no matter how bad it got it would always be the three of us._

_Maybe I’d be happy in either of those places and maybe I wouldn’t; but I’m here, in Dauntless, and I can’t change that. Maybe I don’t even really want to, because if I hadn’t come here than I never would have met Tris, or Al, or Will, or Christina, or Myra, or Edward. I would have never gotten to have them as my close friends and realize just how fast friendships can blossom when it feels like it’s just you and them with your backs all up against the wall and your only choice is to help each other out. I would never have gotten to experience Dauntless as it really is; loud, wild, and chaotic but ultimately so very beautiful. I might never have developed this beginning of a steel backbone or this person who thinks about all these opportunities that the me before transferring would never have even considered. We’re all different people since jumping into that net, and I think that we become a little more different every day; less our parents’ children and our birth factions’ dependents, and more the people that we’re meant to be._

_I still don’t believe in fate. ‘Meant to be’ is such a bullshit concept, nothing’s ever really set in stone and I think that my presence here is proof of that. But I think that all of us have an idea of the person that we want to be, the Dauntless that we want to be, and as initiates we inch closer to that goal as we become more immersed in Dauntless living. As for who that person actually is, who I want to be; I just don’t know. I kind of have a vague idea what I want to do with my life but I’ve yet to cement what sort of person I want to be aside from just someone who helps other people, someone who makes other people happy._

_I–_

 

I don’t get to finish my sentence because Four sticks his head in and turns out the lights. When he’s gone I slowly uncurl from the position I was in and tuck my journal beneath my mattress. I would still rather not have anyone else finding it, especially since it’s something that I brought from Erudite, so I have to be sort of careful about when I take it out and put it away. It doesn’t have any sort of identifying marks, it’s just a navy hardcover book, but it’s not like any of the other initiates are especially into reading or that I even know where I would find a book like this in Dauntless.

I’m sitting up with my back against the wall staring off into space, not quite ready to lay down and fall asleep but with nothing to do, when the door bursts open again and people with flashlights stream in.

“Everybody up!” Eric roars.

I get to my feet slowly, sighing quietly. So much for my peaceful night I guess. Most of the Dauntless are older and I don’t recognize them, but I do spot Four among them.

Christina and I share a look across the darkened room, I can barely see her eyes but I know she’s looking at me. She’s wearing only an oversized shirt that barely falls to her mid-thighs. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at Eric when his eyes move from Tris to her. Will’s legs swing down next to my head and I glance up at him. He wiggles his fingers and gives me a tired smile.

“You have five minutes to get dressed and meet us by the tracks,” Eric says, the light from the flashlights makes his black eyes look reflective and monstrous. “We’re going on another field trip.”

And just like that, they’re all gone. All that fanfare for a fifteen second conversation.

We all begin rushing around, none of us wanting to be even a second late out of fear of crossing Eric. Even Peter, who supposedly fears nothing, was startled by the loud entrance.

I weave in between the adult Dauntless still crowding the Pit despite the fact that it’s nearly midnight. Though I’m sure that that will be me in less than a year, at least there seems to be more to do for those who are not initiates. As I walk beside Will, Christina and Tris somewhere behind us, I try to braid my hair back. It won’t look very good, but I have had many days since beginning my Dauntless training in which I have had to forego fashion in favor of function. This is one of those times.

The other Dauntless members don’t seem at all surprised by the crowd of teenagers pushing their way through their ranks half ready and most still kind of half asleep. In fact, a few of them hoot as we pass them, or shout actual words that I can’t make out over the dull roar of the rest of the Pit.

We make it up to the tracks right behind the slowest Dauntless initiates, the older Dauntless are also hanging around in their own little clusters. Some look like they’re in their early twenties while others can’t be a day younger than sixty, but nonetheless they all have that air of Dauntless spirit around them. That loud and boisterous but joyful attitude that was one of the reasons I used to watch the Dauntless students.

‘ _Age doesn’t matter in Dauntless_ ,’ I remember Four saying on the night that I met Eric. He meant that in the context of who can take jobs or not, but I also think that for the Dauntless no one’s ever too old to be wild and adventurous. It’s kind of cool I guess; for the most part the face of Dauntless seems to just be a lot of loud young people, but there’s older Dauntless and that will be me someday. Always young at heart, and apparently in really good shape if they can still jump on the trains.

“What fresh hell do you think they’ve arranged for us this time?” Will says.

I shrug. “Knowing Eric it could just be a game where he drops us all in a field and hunts us down one by one.”

Al giggles. “A literal field trip.”

I blame how funny I find that on the fact that I’m basically asleep standing up.

A circle of light appears in the distance, though most of the initiates stop their conversations the older Dauntless don’t even seem to notice it. Only when the train draws much closer do they begin jogging along it, chatting casually all the while.

We all crowd into one of the last train cars, including the older Dauntless there have to be at least fifty of us and everyone is crammed against each other but I manage to stick close to the cluster that is my friend group.

“Alright,” Four says, and when he speaks most of the noise quiets. “We’ll be dividing into two teams to play capture the flag. Each team will have an even mix of members, Dauntless-born initiates, and transfers. One team will get off first and find a place to hide their flag. Then the second team will get off and do the same.” The car sways but he doesn’t. “This is a Dauntless tradition, so I suggest you take it seriously.”

“What do we get if we win?” someone from the crowd shouts.

Four raises his eyebrows. “That sounds like a question someone not from Dauntless would ask. You get to win of course.”

Eric reaches into one of the many duffel bags that the Dauntless members helped carry onto the train and pulls out a black gun with a long, thin barrel.

“Because we all want you alive,” Eric glances away for a second, “…to an extent, you’ll be playing with paintballs and paintball guns. I hope you’ve all been paying attention during target practice. Dauntless takes this ritual _very_ seriously.”

Another Dauntless interjects, an older woman with a tattoo above and beneath her eye. “The paintballs sting like a bitch but it should be nothing for you…” she giggles, “soon to be Dauntless warriors.” The man next to her snorts, elbowing her in the ribs.

“Four and I will be your team captains.” Eric looks at Four. “Let’s divide up the transfers first, shall we?”

All I can do is hope that I get to be on the same team as my friends. I won’t get picked first, I know that much, but I would really rather not be on Eric’s team. Four’s team isn’t exactly appealing to either but for the most part I think that Four’s just annoying, I wouldn’t put it past Eric not to shoot any one of his team members if he found them too irritating and I would rather not walk on eggshells this whole game.

“You go first,” Four says.

Eric shrugs. “Edward.”

Four leans back against the wall of the train and scans the crowd of transfers with little interest. I’m sure he isn’t especially eager to have to be dealing with any one of us; we’re his ‘problem students,’ as I recall him saying.

“I want the Stiff,” he says and a snicker runs through the car, from the normal jerks in our class, to the Dauntless-born initiates, to the members.

“Got something to prove?” Eric says.

“Something like that,” Four says, keeping with his habit of almost never giving anyone a straight answer regarding anything. “Your turn.”

“Peter.”

“Christina.”

“Molly.”

“Will.”

“Drew.”

Four looks the remaining initiates including me and then sighs, it’s drawn out and frankly just a little bit overdramatic even by his standards. “Ice Queen.”

It would really be nice if he would actually use my name at some point. I know that he knows it, I’ve seen him write it out on the board when he’s matching up fights. He’s just intentionally being an asshole.

“Al.” Al gets a sort of miserable look on his face as he goes to stand among Eric, Peter, and friends. He’s too nice for them and I doubt that they’re going to be especially kind to him given that he’s friends with Tris.

“Myra.” She looks sadly at Edward and he blows her a kiss. She giggles and returns the gesture.

They divide up the rest of the transfers, then the Dauntless-born, then the members. I look around at my other team members and notice that we all have a few commonalities, or rather we’re all the exact opposite of the people that Eric picked. Eric picked the ones that are strong and large, from Edward with his lean muscle to the Dauntless members that look like they could snap me in half. My team on the other hand, is made up mostly of people who all look a little different; but from what I know of my fellow transfers all the ones that Four picked are all pretty light on their feet and quick thinkers. I’d imagine that that extends to the others that he picked, Four wants us to work smarter rather than harder. That’s actually rather clever of him; maybe there’s a few lights on up in that brain of his after all.

“You can get off second,” Eric says to Four when everyone’s been sorted onto a team.

“Don’t do me any favors.” Four very nearly smiles. “You know that I don’t need them to win.”

“No, I know that you’ll lose no matter when you get off.” The reply obviously irks Eric. “Take your scrawny team and get off first.”

The train dips and we’re parallel with the ground, that’s when my team jumps off. I manage to do it a little gracefully, unlike the only other chance I had to try when I jumped onto the roof. We land in a field not all that far from the marsh or the forest, but a ways from any faction’s territory. The night is cloudy but the bright full moon illuminates the space just enough for us all to walk without turning on our flashlights.

Four’s voice draws my attention away from scanning our environment and back to the people around me. “Okay. Initiates, you’re all taking the lead on this one; this is for you so it’s up to you all to come up with a hiding place and how we go after the other team. We may not be Erudite, but mental preparedness is the most important part of your training, arguably the most important part.”

“When your team won, where did you put the flag?” One of the Dauntless-born asks.

“Telling you wouldn’t really be in the spirit of the exercise, Marlene,” Four says. “This is supposed to be a test of your skills, not mine.”

“Come on, Four.” He brushes her hand off of his arm, unmoved by her pleading.

“Navy Pier,” another Dauntless-born answers for him. “My brother was on the winning team too. They kept the flag at the carousel.”

“So let’s go there then,” Will suggests.

No one objects, so that’s the direction that we head off in. In true Dauntless fashion, we’re not exactly quiet about it; members and initiates alike talk casually, the idea that it might give us away not seeming to bother them. Even Four up ahead is talking to one of the members; possibly a friend, I didn’t think he had those.

“We’re close to the Erudite sector, right?” Christina bumps Will’s shoulder with her own. I remember him saying that he memorized a map of the city for fun, so out of everyone he would know.

“Uh, yeah. It’s south of here.” There’s a hint of longing in his voice that I can understand. No matter how much bravado we all put on, we’re all a little homesick.

When we get up onto the bridge we’re able to see it across the marsh. I know this place, a lot of the engineering research and development facilities have their backs to the marsh. I took a tour of a few of them for school once; they’re just giant warehouses basically with walls that don’t even go an eighth of the way up to the ceiling which makes it feel more like a maze than a building. Some of the taller projects could be seen over the walls, explaining why they need all the space. Because of the surprising lack of windows in those buildings, it’s just a line of black shadows and then the hazy glow cast by the rest of the buildings, rising higher and higher but Erudite Tower being the brightest and tallest among them.

I’m closer to my family there than I have been in a while. I try to imagine what they might be doing right now; working probably. It’s not even midnight; with me no longer at home my father no longer has a reason to leave work early and so he’s probably working too, holed up in either his office in Erudite Tower or the Hub.

I take a breath, letting my mind linger on my family for another second and then pushing all those thoughts away. Now is really not the time for that, now I have to focus. I turn away from the view and begin to walk more quickly. As I do, I catch Will’s eye and we share a look of mutual understanding. We were both Erudite once, he’s missing it just as much as I am but as transfers we have to prove that we are nothing but happy to be here, so it goes mostly unsaid.

Once we cross the bridge, the field changes abruptly into an expanse of broken glass and crumbling buildings as far as the eye can see. Nothing this far out of the way is very well tended to, there’s no reason to waste the resources on it; it’s not like anyone’s using it.

Marlene takes out her flashlight and turns it on, brightening the path for all of us as well as exposing just how much crushed glass it really on the ground.

“Scared of the dark, Mar?” the Dauntless-born who suggested the navy pier teases.

“If you want to step on broken glass, Uriah, be my guest.” But she turns it off anyways.

I once remember my brother making some offhand snide comment about Dauntless seeming to have a hardline aversion to efficiency; that they can never just do anything the easy way because they act like they perpetually have something to prove. I think I’m starting to see where he’s coming from on that. There’s nothing especially brave about walking around in the dark with broken glass all over the ground, but the Dauntless just do it because…because it’s fun for them I guess.

A break in the buildings reveals a strip of land that just out over the marsh and rising up from it is a massive red and white wheel with little gondolas hanging from the spokes. Or at least it was red and white, most of the paint has chipped off to give way to rust and grime.

“People used to ride that thing,” Will says. “For _fun_. Can you imagine?”

Tris shrugs. “Those people must have been Dauntless.

“Yeah but like a lame version of Dauntless,” Christina asks. “A Dauntless Ferris wheel wouldn’t have cars. You would just hang on tight with your hands, and good luck to you.”

“Bet we could hide the flag up there,” I mutter. “Like in the spokes or one of the cars or something.”

“Yeah, and you’re going to be the one to climb that thing and put it up there?” Will says incredulously.

“Oh absolutely not. No, do I look like I have a fucking death wish?”

“You act like it with the way that you talk sometimes,” Christina interjects.

I chuckle. “I keep telling you guys that they’re not actually going to kill us.” But after I speak the words I look at Christina again, her arms crossed and a doubtful look on her face, and suddenly I’m not so sure.

We keep walking and soon the broken buildings turn into simply crumbling ones. Their doors are shut tightly and from the shadows that I can make out inside, or lack thereof, they’re empty. It looks as abandoned as the last part that we walked through, but whoever used to live here clearly left at their own leisure; leaving their homes to slowly erode as time wears on.

“Dare you to jump into the marsh,” Christina says to Will.

“Oh yeah,” he drawls. “I’ll get right on that.” He smirks and shakes his head. “If you want to see what’s down there so bad, you do it.”

We reach the carousel finally, which is just as old and weathered as the rest of this place. The plastic horses that are still connected to their poles have chipping paint if not outright pieces missing from them.

Four gathers everyone up around him and pulls the flag out of his pocket; it’s fluorescent orange and looks like it’s been dipped in glitter.

“In ten minutes, the other team will jump and pick their location,” Four says. “They’ll be a fair distance away from us in any direction, but you should all use that time to be formulating your strategy.”

“Us members will do whatever you tell us to, but _try_ not to lead us straight into a trap,” says a woman with purple hair that has pink streaks running through it.

Will takes the flag from Four. “Some people should stay here and guard, and some people should go out and scout the other team’s location.”

“Yeah? You think?” The bald girl next to Marlene raises her eyebrows as she snatches the flag away from him. “Who put you in charge, transfer?”

“No one, but _someone_ has to take the lead on this.”

“Maybe we should develop a more defensive strategy,” Christina suggests. “Wait for them to come for us and then take them out, follow the people back to their hiding spot.”

“That’s the sissy's way to do it,” Uriah says. “I say we go all in; hide the flag so well that they can’t find it and then storm their base.”

“Okay yeah, we’ll get right on that,” Will says. “Because obviously they won’t be just as well hidden as we are.”

“Well, most of the people on that team aren’t exactly what I would call the sharpest knives in the drawer.” I nudge Will with my elbow.

Everyone has a different idea for how we should go about winning the game, which I guess is better than no one having any ideas, but it still makes it sort of hard to plan. I actually don’t have much of anything; there’s got to be something that satisfies the core ideas of everyone’s plans but I don’t know what that might be.

Bored of the argument after only a few minutes, I walk away from the crowd and sit down on the old faux-wood of the carousel floor, as far away from Four as I can get while still being on the same side of the carousel. I’m still listening, but at this point I have nothing to add and see no point in standing around and listening to everyone argue.

They’re west of us, somewhere within a two mile radius, but that’s all that we really know. All that we can rule out is that they’re not hiding anywhere close to the way that we came but that isn’t really saying a lot. We really can’t do much of anything without finding their flag first, not if we want to be smart about it. But then again, I think be now I should have figured out that the Dauntless don’t really give a shit about going doing things the smart way.

If I had to make a guess about Eric’s team, I would say that as soon as they hid their flag they’d be out looking for us. Maybe one or two people would stay behind to guard, but for them the best defense is a good offense.

Christina’s right, we should wait for them to come and find us and then follow them back; but Will is also right, we should try and split it so that there’s still enough people left behind to defend the flag because they’re weakness is that they aren’t going to think to defend themselves. But a lot of the Dauntless-born want a full frontal attack; much like Eric’s team probably, they don’t give a shit about defense they just want to go and fight.

But that doesn’t matter if we don’t know where their goddamn flag is.

I look around to find Tris, who also walked away from the argument, and see if she has any ideas. But she’s gone, and so is Four, and I really hope that they’re not doing something reckless and stupid but honestly I’m probably wrong. Tris isn’t exactly the sort of person to stand around and wait for other people to approve of her idea before she executes it; I both admire that and absolutely cannot stand that, this is supposed to be an exercise in teamwork after all.

After another couple of minutes of no progress both within my own team and my own head, Christina drops down next to me.

“I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas,” she says.

“Nothing coherent. Nothing actually doable. You didn’t see where Tris went, did you?”

“Sure didn’t. Do you think she’s alright?”

“It’s Tris and she can apparently bounce back from pretty much anything, so yeah probably but I wouldn’t be surprised if she were off finding a way to injure herself further.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’s off winning us the game.”

“They only way we’re going to win this game is if we can get together a coherent plan. Which, excuse my pessimism, I don’t think is going to happen.”

“I doubt the other team is any better off.” She snickers. “Like you said, they’re not the sharpest knives in the drawer.”

“Yeah, but Eric doesn’t give a shit about this being a learning experience. He has a plan and his team is going to execute it whether they want to do it or not.”

She bumps me with her shoulder. “You seem to just have it all figured out.

I snort. “I wish. I’ve considered a couple different strategies that might satisfy everyone; but they don’t work unless we know where the flag is, but we need a strategy to actually find the flag, and thus we are back to square one.”

She sighs. “That’s…that sucks.”

“Yeah. Dauntless, not the best strategists. Like Four said, they aren’t – we aren’t – exactly concerned with any kind of thinking ahead or mental preparedness.”

Will joins us a little bit later, looking annoyed and tired. “I’m done.” He says as he sits down. “I’m done, I no longer give a shit. They can fuckin’ do whatever they want. We’re going to lose and Peter and Eric are going to be rubbing our noses in it for the next goddamn century.”

“Your unyielding optimism really brightens my day; you know that?” Christina teases.

Will glares at her but he starts laughing after a second and then that laughter tapers off into a sigh. “We are so fucked.”

“Oh yeah definitely,” I agree. “Like if we could just get them to shut up long enough we might actually be able to come to a compromise, but, like, of course not.”

“Oh my god!” A Dauntless-born exclaims and at first I think that it’s just because of the argument, but then I notice everyone looking in one direction.

The three of us stand up to see what everyone’s looking at, and the ferris wheel is moving. The three of us look at each other in bewilderment and then understanding; in unison we say, “Tris.”

Of course, not even five minutes later she strolls up with Four. The entire team moves to meet them before they even reach the carousel.

“Did you guys turn the wheel?!” an older member exclaims. “You might as well have just shouted, ‘Here we are, please come get us,’.” She shakes her head.

“The wheel doesn’t matter,” Four says. “We know where they are.”

“We?” Christina says, looking between Tris and Four.

“Yes. While the rest of you were sitting around twiddling your thumbs, Tris climbed the ferris wheel to look for the other team.”

“The – the flags, they glow,” she explains.

“So what do we do now?” asks another one of the Dauntless-born through a yawn.

“I have an idea,” I say quickly before anyone else can speak.

I expect everyone to ignore me and turn to Tris or even Four to direct them, or to just break down into arguing again, but they don’t. For once, no one speaks and I have their undivided attention. I really hope that this sounds as good out loud as it does in my head.

“We move in waves,” I say, “each arranged to begin attacking at a set interval. We go in quiet until we can’t anymore. The first waves try to pin down the majority of Eric’s team in a firefight while one person or a team of people, it doesn’t matter, in the last wave goes for the flag.”

There’s a beat of silence where everyone just looks at me; and then Marlene asks, “What interval?”

I look back at Tris. “How far are we from the flag?”

“I would say a ten minute run maybe.”

“Five minutes,” I say. “That should be enough time to both get there and engage Eric, distracting them enough from realizing what we’re doing and intercepting us.”

“Fifteen minutes is a long time,” another Dauntless-born says.

“Something you can’t handle?” I raise my eyebrow and that shuts them up.

There’s another moment of silence and then Four, very slowly, says, “That’s actually not a terrible idea.”

‘ _Yeah, I know_ ,’ I snap back in my head, but keep quiet.

“Let’s do it,” Marlene says.

The others agree; some enthusiastically and others more hesitantly, but it becomes the plan that we decide on nonetheless. We agree to split into five waves, and I volunteer to go with the first because it’s my plan and I ought to be sticking my neck out if I really think it will actually work. The rest of the first wave is mostly made up of the Dauntless members because they’re the most experienced among us; but Marlene and Myra are also with me, at least if this totally goes to shit before the others even arrive I’ll have good company.

We disperse into smaller groups once we’re among the trees because it’s harder to spot two or three people sneaking around than it is to spot twenty. We’ll each approach the other team from different angles and converge on them, backing them into a corner. We expect them to fight back and try to use their numbers to overpower us, but if we can just hold our ground for a few minutes then the second wave will arrive.

The three of us decide that we’re going to try and get as far inside their guard as we can before we announce our presence. They’re expecting something from the outside, but the others will take care of that. We take the extra long way around for caution, but to my surprise and suspicion I didn’t see a single member of Eric’s team wandering around. The scouts must have passed this area already, or Eric is more clever than I thought.

I guess that there’s nothing that can be done about it now; but I really, really hope that we win this game. I really need this idea to work so that I’m not just the mediocre Erudite transfer with no distinguishing qualities whatsoever.

Where we slip in, there’s no guards and very few on our way to the tower where Tris said they’re keeping the flag. We won’t actually try to grab it, we just want to clear the way for the fifth wave as much as possible. That’s where Tris and Christina both are, and Will is with the second. Even though we’re not in any real danger I still worry about them.

Marlene checks her watch and holds up her hand, indicating that we have a full five minutes before the second wave arrives. That’s when the shouting and firing starts; I hear it coming from the front, where the Dauntless members must have engaged the guards. Good, that should make it easier for us and the fifth wave to sneak around.

We sneak around to the base of the tower, where there’s a maze of large shipping containers and cement walls for us to hide behind. Marlene is the first of the three of us to take a shot, she hits the guard by the door in the backs of his knees and he howls in pain and surprise, drawing more people over that the three of us open fire. I’m not a great shot with this gun either, but I can see how the practice has done some good because I hit more often than I miss; it’s just not always where I intended, or who I intended. A ball whizzes by my head so close it nearly stains some of my hair right as another one catches me in the chest. The woman on the train was right, it does sting like a bitch.

Marlene’s watch beeps and almost right as it does I hear a lot of shouting come from the front. So much for keeping quiet. She ducks back behind the shipping container for a quick second to set her watch again. We keep moving, keep trying to draw the guards closer to the big fight and farther from the tower. It also helps that the big fight is sort of coming to us, our team is starting to push them back behind their lines but unfortunately we’re already here too.

It hardly feels like any time has passed before all we’re waiting on is the fifth wave. My outfit is a mess of splatters and I’m sure all have constellations of welts tomorrow morning but all I care about right now is winning. So far it seems like my plan is going off without a hitch. But this is the easy part, cause as much chaos as possible to cover the last team. We still have to actually get the flag.

At some point I hear Marlene’s watch beep for the fifth time but it barely registers with me. We’ve moved on from trying to draw the guards away from the tower because now they’re within range of the others and their only choice is to fight back, because they’re Dauntless and Dauntless don’t run away from a fight. They’ve forgotten about their posts at the tower entirely, not the sharpest knives in the drawer.

The other team wasn’t exactly expecting to be shot in the back, so most of them had left themselves wide open on that front. It was easy pickings for the three of us, and they’re all broad enough that even I couldn’t miss.

I don’t even notice the fifth wave arrives; I keep all of my attention on the other team, which has finally noticed the three of us. It only feels like a few minutes have passed from arriving here when Christina bursts out onto the balcony of the tower holding the lime green flag with Tris right behind her. Everything stops and our team cheers. Marlene high-fives Myra and I and then Myra hugs the both of us.

The other team groans, letting their guns clatter to the ground. Some of them high-five the other team while others seem a little more bitter about the loss. But they can hardly be heard over the cheers coming from my teammates, whoops and just actual screams mixing into one oddly pleasant cacophony. To my knowledge, they never found our flag. We’d tossed it on top of the carousel before leaving, it was still visible and so technically not in violation of the rules but it was kind of a dick move because it meant that no one could get to it without making themselves an easy target.

I wait for Christina and Tris to come down, Will joining me as well. He's a paint-splattered mess but otherwise he looks just fine. We exchange giddy, but tired grins and say nothing. Tris and Christina come down not even a minute later; Christina is still holding the flag. Tris and I high-five, both of us knowing that we won the game for our team but not wanting to brag.

“Mimi!” Christina exclaims, wrapping me in a tight hug that I immediately return. She whispers in my ear through her laughter, “You do have it all figured out.”

I laugh, squeezing her tighter. I hadn't realized how freezing it is out here until she hugged me and I was suddenly warm. My stomach churns and my chest feels like it’s about to burst but in a good way.

She stares at me for another few seconds longer, examining my face carefully which makes me uncharacteristically nervous. Then she pulls away from me to pull Will into an equally giddy hug and the moment is gone, but the buzz in my chest remains.

We walk back to the train tracks slowly, meeting up with Al along the way. He’s covered head to toe in paint and seeming none too happy about it.

“Why couldn’t I have been on your guys’ team,” he sighs. “That hurt so much.”

“Because the universe hates you,” Will deadpans. “You did miss Christina, Tris, and Mimi being absolutely incredible.” He pulls Christina and I close to him, missing Tris because he can’t quite reach her. “They quite literally won us the game.”

I blush and lean my head back on his shoulder to stare up at the night sky. “I mean yeah, but Christina and I couldn’t have done what we did without Tris finding the flag.” I can see so many more stars out here than I ever could in the city, where there's so much light coming from the buildings that you can only see the brightest stars. This is also the first time I've looked up at the sky in about three weeks, another reason to dislike being underground that I would have never anticipated caring about.

“Yeah but there’s no guarantee that we ever would have been able to get to it without your plan,” Tris says. “And Christina did most of the work getting up there anyways.”

Christina grins. “You should have seen us, Al. We were incredible!” She still holds Eric’s luminescent flag in her hand and behind Will’s back she swings one side over toward me. Slightly clumsily, I grab it and we manage to get it over all of our shoulders just barely and we probably look ridiculous.

“Hey,” Marlene pulls me aside and lowers her voice. “Some of the other Dauntless-born and I are taking a little bit of an alternate route back, like a rite of passage thing. Want to come?”

I glance back at Will, Christina, and Al, noticing that Tris has dematerialized again. With me gone Will has taken over holding the other end of the flag and the two of them keep it wrapped around them tightly as they walk.

Marlene follows my gaze back towards them. “I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”

It’s not like I’m leaving one of them all alone, they’ll have each other for company. Besides, I want to fit in with the Dauntless and this could be my chance to start doing that.

I shake my head. “Not at all. Sure thing, Marlene, that sounds lovely.”

“Call me Mar,” she says and then waves me after her as she walks away. “This way.”

Myra and Tris have also tagged along with the Dauntless-born and we follow them through the darkened streets all the way back toward City Center which, despite being one of the busiest places in the city, is mostly dark at this hour. The walk alone must have taken forty-five minutes and it was well after midnight when we arrived at the boardwalk. The older Dauntless members lead us around most of City Center to get to the abandoned Hancock Building, which is abandoned because it’s in such disrepair that it’s more trouble to fix than it is to leave it. Though I’ve always wondered why it hasn’t been demolished like so many others, but I suspect that I’m about to find out.

Another Dauntless is waiting for us outside the front doors and he grins when he sees us approach.

“Fresh off of capture the flag, little brother,” the man gives Uriah a one armed hug. “Did you do me proud?”

“You bet,” Uriah says. “Even brought along a few transfers from the winning team. For those of you who don’t know, this is my brother Zeke. Don’t let the smile fool you, he’s not that charming.”

We laugh and Zeke shakes his head at Uriah.

“What are we doing here?” Tris asks.

“You don’t get to know,” says one of the older Dauntless. “That ruins the surprise.” She extends her hand to Tris. “I’m Shauna, by the way.”

“I’m-”

“I know who you are,” Shauna interrupts her. “You’re the Stiff. Four told me about you?”

“Oh really,” Tris says and I can’t see her blush but the awkward tone of her voice suggests that she’s blushing. “What did he say?”

She smirks. “He said you were the Stiff. Why do you ask?”

“If my instructor is talking about me, I want to know what he’s saying. He’s coming, isn’t he?”

I groan internally. If Four is coming, then this night just got a lot less pleasant.

“No. He never comes to this,” she says. “It’s probably lost its appeal after all this time.”

Tris seems to deflate a little bit at Shauna’s response, exact opposite my reaction.

“Do you know him well?” she asks.

“Everyone knows Four,” Shauna replies. “We were initiates together. I was bad at fighting, so he taught me every evening before dinner.” She scratches the back of her neck, her expression suddenly serious. “It was really nice of him.”

‘Nice’ and ‘Four’ aren’t really two things that I’d really associate together, but I guess it’s kind of fitting for him. Seems like he was really cut out to be a teacher.

Our little cluster walks up the steps of the building and then inside. One of the door frames doesn’t have any glass in it so it’s just the frame, but the glass has long since been swept up. The entry way is eerily dark and I expect for Zeke to lead us to the stairwell, but we stop at the elevators instead.

“Do the elevators work?” Tris whispers to Uriah.

“Sure they do.” Zeke rolls his eyes. “You think I’m stupid enough not to come here early and turn on the generator?”

Uriah laughs. “Yeah, Zeke, I kind of do.”

Zeke glares at him and then, not letting this snide comment slide, pulls him into a headlock and rubs his knuckles against his shaved head. Uriah smacks him in the side and he lets go, the both of them laughing.

The elevator doors open and the initiates pile into one and the members into the other. There aren’t very many of us, but they’re all Dauntless-born, who outnumber the transfers something like two to one.

“What floor?” asks a girl with a shaved head.

“One hundred,” Tris says.

She whips around. “How would you know that?”

“Lynn, come on,” Uriah says. “Be nice.”

“We’re in a hundred story building and we’re Dauntless,” Tris retorts. “Why don’t you know that?”

She doesn’t respond, she just jams her thumb on the button and the elevator zooms upward.

“Oh yeah,” Marlene says before any semblance of silence can really settle over us. “Uriah wasn’t the only ones who brought friends. Everyone, this is Myra and Mimi; Myra and Mimi, meet everyone.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, everyone.” Myra giggles.

“How did three transfers wind up with us anyways?” asks a Dauntless-born who’s name I don’t know.

“You were on the other team weren’t you?” Marlene asks and the boy nods miserably. “Well, Tris and Mimi are the two people responsible for your loss. Tris found the flag and Mimi made the plan to get it. Myra was with Mimi and I and she’s just really cool.”

Myra twirls a lock of finger around her hair, blushing a little. Tris and I exchange smiles again.

“It was pretty smart of them,” Uriah says. “Like, Erudite smart.”

Tris and I share another look, both of us knowing what the other is thinking, but neither of us say anything.

“Just because you did one cool thing doesn’t make you any less transfers,” Lynn says. “You’re not Dauntless yet.”

Marlene leans her head on Lynn’s shoulder. “Come on, they’re not so bad.”

Lynn rolls her eyes, but smiles at Marlene.

“I wonder how we’ll get to the roof from…” Uriah's voice trails off as the doors open.

The hundredth floor is no better lit than the lobby but light leaks in via a massive hole in the ceiling, making an aluminum ladder look like it’s glowing in the dark.

“You know, I’m more curious how they managed to knock that hole in the ceiling,” Myra mutters to me and I nod.

We follow Lynn and Marlene up the ladder to the roof, which thankfully has a rail around the perimeter to keep us from falling off. No one speaks, not even as the Dauntless members arrive, we all just take a second to be totally captivated by the view of the city from all the way up here; swathes of bright light next to pitch black as some sectors of the city are much less busy than others. From up here I can see all the basic shapes on maps I’ve seen that I can recognize as places that I know. I think of Will, memorizing a map of the city in his spare time, it doesn’t seem so trivial now. In fact I can actually understand the impulse to want to have a bird’s eye view of everything always in your mind. He would love it up here I’m sure.

In my peripheral vision I see people moving to gather around one part of the balcony and when I manage to tear my gaze away from that breathtaking view I finally notice that secured to one of the poles rising up from the roof is a thick steel cable that runs off the building, straight out into the darkness. I may not have memorized a map of the city, but if I had to guess I would say that it touches down somewhere near the Dauntless compound.

On the ground next to the railing is a pile of black belts, harnesses, Zeke secures one to the zipline and in his best corny announcer voice says, “Step right up, step right up! Who among you will be the first to brave the death and gravity defying Zipline of Terror?!” Before he can get through another sentence, he breaks down into laughter.

Shauna, also laughing, is the first one to ‘step right up’. She climbs onto the railing and my breath catches for a second when she does as I’m reminded of Christina having to climb over the railing on the bridge over the Chasm.

‘ _This is different_ ,’ I remind myself. ‘ _This is fun. Dangerous, but what Dauntless fun isn’t?_ ’

She gets into the sling and Zeke secures the straps tightly around her but my second hand anxiety doesn’t fade; I can almost see the tough fabric fraying and snapping, plunging her to her death a hundred stories below. The image of the girl who didn’t make it to the roof back on the first day of initiation isn’t something I think I’m going to be forgetting any time soon. That girl was sixteen years old, just like me, what’s going to stop me from falling?

I’m drawn back to reality as Zeke counts down from five and then shoves her off into the darkness, I can hear her cheering as she hurtles to the ground for a few seconds and then it fades away.

Some of the others whoop and throw their fists in the air, Myra among them. We all form the closest that we can get to an orderly line, ten people between me and the zipline. It’s nothing against Zeke, I’m fairly confident that he knows what he’s doing, it’s just that I know accidents happen and I don’t want to be one of them; I don’t want any one of us to just die in some tragic accident like Rita’s sister.

No one else seems afraid, the members have all probably done this a hundred times before; but the initiates, who heard and maybe saw the same thing I did, they all look nothing but excited. Maybe they’re just good at hiding their fear, maybe the things that have happened over the past two and a half weeks don’t bother them like they bother me.

“So this is Dauntless culture,” Myra says.

“Yep, this is about what I expected,” I say. “The ziplining, I mean, and maybe capture the flag but everything else kind of came out of left field.”

“Yeah, same actually. Scared?”

I give her a tight smile. “Petrified. You?”

She squeezes my arm, somehow managing to avoid all of my bruises. “Figuratively shitting my pants.”

The knot of tension inside me slackens marginally as we exchange smiles. We’re in the same boat, afraid but unwilling to back down now.

“You know,” she says, “my father used to say to me that real bravery isn’t never being afraid, but rather acknowledging your fears and acting in spite of them.”

“Your father sounds like a smart man.” The saying sounds rather familiar to me as well, I don’t know where I would have heard it from though.

“He was.” Something flickers in her expression for a moment; Myra is as homesick as the rest of us but too proud to show it, just like the rest of us.

Something that I hadn’t noticed about her before now, standing right next to, is that her hair isn’t naturally red; the lack of time she’s had to pay attention have left the light brown roots to grow out long enough to become noticeable.

I look back at the zipline again to see Tris getting in; that means there’s only three people left until I have to go. She slips into the harness on her stomach like most of the others. She looks back at the line of people left as Zeke and her eyes meet mine for a quick second.

“Ready, Stiff?” Zeke says. “I have to say, I’m impressed that you aren’t screaming and crying right now.”

“I told you,” Uriah says. “She’s Dauntless through and through, now get on with it.”

“Careful, little brother,” Zeke chides with teasing tone. “or I might not tighten your straps enough come your turn and then, splat!”

“Yeah.” Uriah rolls his eyes. “And then mom would boil you alive.”

Zeke shrugs. “Only if she found out.” He counts Tris down and then lets her go. I don’t hear her scream in terror or cheer like the others before her did, she was just there and then Zeke let go and she wasn’t.

“Who would’ve thought that the Stiff would be the bravest out of all of us,” Myra mutters.

I look off in the direction that the zipline leads. “She’s really not what anyone would expect.” I look back at Myra. “It’s cool, right?”

“Heh.” She nods, looking away toward the zipline. “It’s…something to behold.”

Myra and Tris are the two that struggle the most in initiation, as the two smallest and leanest initiates in our transfer class they have kind of a hard time gaining the upper hand in fights. We haven’t seen our rankings yet, but I know what Eric thinks about them just from the way that he jeers when they fight. From the way that she acts I assumed that Myra thought herself to be above his petty insults, but I think that she wants to impress just as much as the rest of us do. We all know that Tris is truly Dauntless, it’s something that everyone can see and after that game of capture the flag I think that she’s pretty much proved that she belongs here. She climbed the fucking ferris wheel, if that doesn’t prove it I don’t think anything will.

Myra hasn’t really done anything that anyone’s taken notice of; she isn’t the best fighter, she isn’t the cruelest initiate, she isn’t the bravest out of all of us, she wasn’t the first to knock someone out, Eric hasn’t tried to kill her, she doesn’t talk back to Four. She, much like Will, Drew, and Molly, and the other initiates – the normal fucking people in this sea of chaos – pretty much seems to stick to the sidelines. I wonder if she’s jealous, because Tris really sticks out and maybe she just wants to be that.

Maybe I’m reading into it too much.

Marlene is gone before I realize and then Myra steps up. As Zeke straps her into the harness she looks back at me and says, “See you on the other side.” Then Zeke lets her go and she disappears into the night, cheering all the while.

I have to wait for a small eternity before Zeke beckons me forward. I climb onto the barrier with shaking limbs and let Zeke guide me face down into the sling. I can see how far the drop is and I think of Rita’s friend again. I’m not someone who’s afraid of heights, but I’m also not usually someone that flirts with death for the hell of it. Although I guess that that’s better left in the past; flirting with death for the hell of it might as well be right in the Dauntless manifesto for all that it seems to be a requirement to join up with them.

“Ready?” Zeke asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” I say, trying to let my nerves show through my voice.

“That’s the spirit.” He smacks me on the shoulder and it makes the sling bounce slightly. I swallow a scream and smile at him instead. “Don’t forget to pull the break at the bottom.” He tugs lightly on a handle attached to a cord behind me. I nod and he pulls me back slightly. “Three, two, o-” he lets me go and the rest of the word is lost as I hurtle away from the Hancock Building.

I swallow another scream and grip the harness around my chest for dear life.

‘ _I am not going to fall_ ,’ I remind myself. ‘ _I have every confidence in Zeke and his knowledge; I am going to be just fine. I’m Dauntless, this is what we do._ ’

I’m lower than I was up on the roof, but it still kind of feels like I can see everything up here among the skyscrapers. I breathe heavily, the harsh wind drying out my mouth almost immediately, and then instead of screaming I try a cheer. This isn’t actually so bad; I mean, it’s scary as fuck but in a way that makes me feel like my whole body is vibrating and I want to laugh. It’s a weird feeling and not really something that I’ve ever experienced before, but it thrills me.

Perhaps flirting with death isn’t so bad; death doesn’t seem to be all that into me.

Up ahead of me, there’s a brick wall with a giant X formed by floodlights. Feeling both disappointed and relived that the ride is over, I reach up and pull the brake. Standing on the ground, which is a survivable distance away now though it would still really hurt to hit the concrete and I’d probably break a bone, are the Dauntless; some of them I saw up on the roof and others must have been waiting here to catch the first person. They form a net of sorts with all their arms, ready to catch me. I reach behind me and first undo the straps around my legs, feeling them drop down makes a bolt of terror run straight through me. I hesitate before undoing the two straps around my chest, looking down at the people again. With the bright lights on them I can very clearly make out Marlene, Myra and Tris, then Uriah and Lynn. I take a deep breath; these are my people and I trust them. Dauntless is my family, not by blood but by choice and neither of those bonds outweighs the other. The love that I feel for both are a little different but I love them nonetheless; insane as Dauntless is, it’s still amazing to me. Despite everything, that spark hasn’t dulled since initiation started; I just see things a little differently now, but I also think that I am allowed to be idealistic and realistic at the same time. Ideals and idealism are what hold these factions together.

I unbuckle both straps at the same time and fall into their arms, landing on my stomach because I don’t have enough time to turn over. I feel muscle and bone dig into my flesh and it knocks the wind out of me, but I don’t mind in the slightest. They lower me to the ground in almost perfect unison and disentangle themselves from each other to let me stand up.

I get to my feet and find a spot in the tangle next to Tris right as another body comes into view. I grab Myra’s hand across from me and a stranger’s wrist as the human net reforms to catch that person.

Tris leans over and in my ear says, “Pretty cool, right?”

“Amazing,” I say breathlessly.

We catch four more people before Zeke himself comes down and then we all begin to walk back to the Dauntless compound, laughing and talking loudly as if it isn’t the very early hours of the morning.

Exhaustion begins to settle over me and only becomes more and more apparent the closer we get to the dormitories. Tris, Myra, and I don’t bid each other goodnight; we all just collapse on our respective beds. My last thought before falling asleep is that I might be just fine here, the first time I’ve thought that since the start of initiation.

We’re all going to be just fine.


	14. Sharpen Your Knife

The next morning comes too fast. I doubt that I slept more than two hours, but I don’t regret it in the slightest. This is the first time I haven’t been one of the first few people up, instead when I drag myself to the bathroom the only one missing is Tris. Myra and I exchange tired, but satisfied glances as I come in, setting my things on the counters with the sinks and then getting in the shower.

That was the first night that I really felt Dauntless, like it wasn’t all just me trying to be something that I’m not. It was great, and if I’m being honest with myself then I hope that the rest of my life is like that. Maybe not the ziplining part, but the feeling of it all, actually getting to take part in Dauntless culture which is now my culture rather than feeling like an outsider or someone who only has one foot in the door. For the first time, everything that I want to do actually feels achievable and attaching the Dauntless label to myself feels natural. This is my home, this is where I belong and I can be here knowing chose it for myself and not because I was trying to live up to the vision that someone else had for me. I am only the person that I want to be, and I think that I’m starting to get a little bit clearer of an idea as to who that person really is. I’m still ambitious like an Erudite, I think that I always will be and finally feeling like I belong here only makes me more resolute in my goals.

When I get out of the shower, Myra is gone but Tris has gotten up. She greets me with a yawn and when I walk to the mirror to do my hair, I nudge her shoulder with my own.

“Tired?” I say.

“Wiped. You?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

We both laugh and it sounds strained and tired, but sincere. Christina gives us a quizzical look, but for now says nothing.

As usual, we all wait for each other before going to breakfast. I like the routine that we’re all falling into, the way that training is pretty much almost always the same. I’m beginning to see that not everything about Dauntless is just random and chaotic 24/7. There’s a routine here that people seem to stick to for the most part and a way of life that they’ve carved out for themselves. That said, there really is no such thing as a dull moment.

“Where did you two go last night?” Will asks when we sit down at our usual table. “Mimi, Marlene pulled you away to talk to you for a second and then you were just gone.”

Tris and I exchange grins, neither of us are quite sure if we should spill the Dauntless-born’s secret. I also don’t want to say anything because I don’t want them to feel left out. It was great and I had tons of fun but I also think that it would have been cool to have them there.

“We took an alternate route back,” Tris says.

Will raises his eyebrows. “That was a pretty long ass route. You didn’t come back until after we were all in bed.”

“Yeah.” Tris nods. “It was a little…complex.”

Al is all but asleep in his breakfast, his head dipped down as he blinks slowly in an attempt to keep himself awake.

“You doing alright, buddy?” I ask.

He groans in response, rubbing his eyes.

“My sentiments exactly,” Will says.

I take another long drink of my coffee, refusing to let my eyes glaze over. I can handle a little less sleep than usual, Dauntless hasn’t changed me _that_ much.

“God, you know I just cannot wait to spend all day beating my knuckles bloody against a punching bag after last night,” Christina says. “That’s just,” she interrupts herself with a yawn, “buckets of fun.”

“Beats getting punched in the face,” I point out.

“Yeah, but if you get knocked out that’s an extra few minutes of free sleep,” Will jokes.

I snort. “How very optimistic of you.”

“Yep.” He leans back in his chain and puts his arms behind his head. “I’m just here to brighten your day, it’s one of the things you love about me.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure it is, Will.”

I glimpse Marlene on the way over to her table her tray and she sees me too. We smile at each other across the dining hall and them she goes to join the rest of her friends.

After we’re all done with breakfast, or more accurately as close to adequately caffeinated as we can get within our time frame, we walk to the training room. Though I’m freshly determined to do well, I can’t say that I’m especially excited about training today. Maybe I’d be a little more so if it didn’t start at six in the morning. I’m sure no one else is faring any better, but the Dauntless don’t stop for anything and doing things the hard way is just a part of their way of life.

Eric doesn’t show for the morning half of training, which means that it’s for the most part more chill than usual. However, it seems that his victory last night has done nothing to soften Four; he prowls around making all the same criticisms that he usually does and never even making the most half assed attempt at positive reinforcement. It really doesn’t help that most of us are basically falling asleep standing up. Last night really took it out of me, I thought that I could just continue on like I used to in Erudite but that was a different kind of exhaustion. With that it was just my brain that was fried and I could fix that, but with training being the way that it is, we have no time to recover and so this hits us all hard. Even Peter and Edward aren’t quite a hundred percent.

Lunch comes and goes too fast and part of me seriously considered going back to the dorms and just taking a nap like Drew and a few others do. But I also know from experience that training sucks on an empty stomach even more than it does with a full one. It’s also a really good thing that the Dauntless cooks make a lot of food because ever since I’ve started gaining muscle mass I’m basically ravenously hungry all the time, which is _almost_ as bad as being sore all the time. But I won’t pretend like I don’t think it’s a little cool how I can see just a little bit of definition in my muscles. Sore as I am, I feel a lot stronger than I did when I first arrived in Dauntless; I’m not the delicate Erudite girl with perfect makeup and shiny hair anymore. In fact, by Erudite standards, I look like shit most days; I’m bruised, I hardly ever wear makeup, I no longer have all the product that kept my hair so nice. But honestly, I don’t care; in fact, in some ways, I no longer feel any sort of pressure to be perfect because I can’t get much further away from everything that I used to consider perfect than the way I am now.

When we all trudge back to the training room, Eric is there and a line of human shaped targets have been set up, the circles being painted around the stomach. About fifteen feet from the targets is as a table full of polished silver knives with black grips wrapped around the hilts. The sight of them makes me smile a little, finally something that I actually know how to do. Now granted, I’m not as good as Melanie, but she was the one who showed me how. She’s got some sort of fascination with knives just like Minerva used to have with fighting.

“Apparently Four failed to mention this to you this morning,” Eric says, “but you all only have three weeks left of training. Your final fights are on the fourteenth of October, but training proceeds as normal so you’d all better be wide awake on Monday. Today though, you’ll be learning how to throw knives. Everyone pick up three knives and pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them.”

No one moves toward the table for a few seconds.

“Now!” Eric yells.

We all scramble toward the table to pick up our three.

“He’s in a bad mood today,” Christina mutters.

“Is he ever in a good mood?” Tris mutters back.

“When is he not?” I say at the same time.

Judging by the death glare that Eric gives Four when he isn’t paying attention, last night’s loss bothers him a lot more than he’d care to let on. Capture the flag is important to Dauntless, a matter of pride for the team and captains alike and pride is very important to the Dauntless.

We all watch Four throw his three knives very carefully. I am familiar with this subject, but I wouldn’t dare think I’m good enough that I shouldn’t pay attention. Four is very precise about his throws, but relaxed and confident as well like he’s been doing this all his life. Actually it wouldn’t really surprise me if Four just sprang forth fully formed from some hole in the ground already brandishing a knife. The three knives he throws stick in the center of the board so closely that the edges almost brush.

“Line up!” Eric orders as Four goes to the board to collect his knives.

I slip two of the knives into the pocket of my pants for now and easily toss one of them back from hand to hand, adjusting my grip and generally trying to get a feel for the way that the blade is balanced. They’re obviously well made, lovingly crafted though nothing like the custom, decorative ones Melanie has that I’ve only seen a handful of times.

When she was teaching me to throw, she told me that really what it came down to was physics and practice. General mental math can be applied in order to get the basics down. It’s a very Erudite way of approaching something like this, very fitting for my Erudite sister, approaching it like a scientist and picking it apart in order to achieve the desired results.

These are weighted a little differently than the ones I remember her letting me practice with, but the same rules still apply. I flip the blade in my hand and hold it the way I was taught so as not to cut myself, which she did a lot when she was first starting out I remember, and draw my arm back.

‘ _The easiest way to do this is to match your throws to your breaths_ ,’ I recall her telling me as she drew my arm back for me. I can almost hear her voice, feel her fingers ghosting over my arm and shoulders to adjust my stance. ‘ _Exhale. Inhale. Exhale and throw_.’

I hit the target, only slightly above the center dot, but I didn’t throw with enough force and so the blade slides out of the wood after a few seconds. I retrieve the second knife from my pocket and try again, adjusting my aim slightly and throwing harder. That one slams into the board but down and to the left of the dot. I try again with the third knife, shutting out all the other distractions and just trying to focus on what’s in front of me.

That’s the one that divides that tiny center dot down the middle.

“Hey,” Christina says. “You’re pretty good at that.” She throws her third knife and while it gets within the circle it’s still pretty far off from the center.

Most of us finish with our three around the same time, so we walk up to the board to retrieve them. I pick my first up off the floor and then start at getting the other two out of the wood. They’re really stuck in there too, maybe I threw them a little _too_ hard.

“Thanks,” I say while still struggling to pull out the third knife. “My older sister taught me.” The knife pops out and I nearly fall backward but Will’s arm shoots out and grabs mine before I hit the ground.

“Careful,” he teases.

I roll my eyes, but smile at him. “My hero.”

“Yep.” He grins. “This makes, what, the second or third time I’ve saved you from falling? It’s what you love about me.”

“I thought I love you because you’re an optimist.” We walk back to our spots away from the board.

He shrugs. “I contain multitudes.”

“Hold on,” Christina interjects. “Can we just rewind to that part where you said your _sister_ taught you to do this?”

“I mean, she had an instructor first but yeah she showed me a few things.”

“Didn’t you say you were Erudite?” Christina says, no less confused.

“Yeah, it’s just a skill like any other. Calculus, gymnastics, knife throwing; they’ve all got the same basic principle to learning them, practice until you get it right. Really it can be applied to anything.” I remember learning very early that anyone could do anything if they wanted it badly enough, if they worked hard enough. My sister can throw knives, my mother can lead a faction, I can be Dauntless. All I have to do is try, and if there’s one thing I know how to do it’s try.

Christina smiles and shakes her head in disbelief, but doesn’t say anything else.

An hour and a half later, every one of us has managed to at least get our knives within the circle if not at the center save for Al. Unlike fighting, he just can’t seem to get the hang of it and while the rest of us go up to pull our knives from the board he hunts the floor for his. Part of me wants to help him, but I’m not close enough to just talk him through it and with Eric and Four watching us I can’t say with any certainty that I wouldn’t get in trouble for that. Eric’s in a foul mood as it is and I have no desire to poke that particular bear.

The next time he misses, Eric nearly snarls under his breath and storms toward him.

“How slow are you, Candor?!” he demands. Do you need glasses?! Should we move the target closer?!”

Al doesn’t respond, but his face turns bright red. He throws another knife and this one runs out of momentum before it can even reach the board, scraping and clattering against the concrete floor.

“What was that, initiate?” Eric’s voice drops and he leans closer to Al. I watch this exchange out of the corner of my eye while trying to mostly keep my focus on the board. It really shows where my attentions gone when I throw and miss the target by a mile.

“It – It slipped,” Al says meekly.

“Well I think you should go get it.” Apparently everyone was paying attention, because as soon as the words leave Eric’s mouth everybody stops throwing. Even Peter, who I wouldn’t put it past to stab any one of us.

Eric’s head whips around. “Did I tell you to stop.”

We start throwing again. All of us have seen Eric angry before, but this is different, this is like when he made Christina hang over the Chasm. I glance at her, and I know that she notices it too.

Al’s eyes widen. “Go get it? But everyone’s still throwing.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to get hit.”

“I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you.” He smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes or really the rest of his face at all. “Go get your knife.”

Al usually complies with everything we’re told to do without argument. Not because he’s afraid, but because he knows that arguing with Eric and Four is about as effective as arguing with a brick wall. I think that we all know that, but it’s never stopped most of us from trying at least once.

This time is different; this time he stands straight and meets Eric’s eye, setting his jaw. He’s finally at the end of his rope, walking across a floor of people throwing knives with varying degrees of proficiency, and one of the people throwing is _Peter_ , is where he draws the line. It’s an understandable line, but Eric isn’t really the understanding type.

“No.”

“Why not?” Eric’s eyes narrow and venom positively drips from his words. “Are you afraid.”

“Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife? Yeah, I am.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He should have just continued to refuse, Eric might have just accepted that. He should have just insulted us all and said that he didn’t think our aim was good enough not to hit him, or that he didn’t think one of us wouldn’t hit him on purpose; Eric might have gotten a kick out of that.

But he didn’t and now Eric’s face contorts with rage and he shouts, “Everyone stop!”

He didn’t really have to shout, we were all paying attention to him anyways. Eric is completely unpredictable when it comes to punishments, sometimes he just berates the person and sometimes he tries to kill them. On this though I think the latter is about to take place, I can only hope that Al won’t walk away from this with too many injuries.

“Clear out of the ring.” Eric turns back to Al. “Everybody except you.”

We put our knives back on the table and move to the edge of the room by the pillars in a tight cluster. Christina breathes heavily, her terror evident in her eyes. I remember what she said to me a while back after she had to hang over the Chasm and had a nightmare later that night, ‘ _I can’t stop thinking about how many ways it could have killed me, and how it could have killed you guys if you were in my place_ ’. And that’s what she’s thinking now, her nightmare come true. She takes Will’s arm and squeezes it tight.

“Stand in front of the target,” Eric says.

Al listens to him this time, and as he stands there his knees begin to shake.

“Hey, Four.” Eric glances over his shoulder. “Give me a hand here.”

Four scratches his eyebrow with the point of a knife and then walks very slowly to stand beside Eric.

“You’re going to stand there while Four throws those knives, and if you flinch, you’re out.”

Four gives a put-upon sigh. “Is this really necessary?”

Apathetic as ever, I see. Whereas Eric actively wants to torture us, Four just doesn’t give a single shit about us, our wellbeing, or even our lives.

Eric stares Four down, waiting for him to submit to his authority. But Four just stares back blankly.

After a minute Eric sneers at him. “I have the authority here, remember? Here and everywhere else.”

Four shows no emotion as he turns back toward Al, who’s whole body is trembling now. I feel sorry for him, just like I felt sorry for Christina, but there’s nothing that we can do for him either.

The seconds that pass as Four takes aim feel like hours to me, and the tension in the room is palpable.

“Stop,” Tris blurts out. Eric and Four both whirl around, Four nearly dropping the knife in surprise when she speaks.

“Any idiot can stand in front of a target,” she hardly even seems to notice everyone else’s stares. “It doesn’t prove anything except that you’re bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice.”

“Then it should be easy for you to take his place,” Eric says with a cruel smile. “Same rules apply, but if you flinch he takes your place and then you can both be factionless.”

Tris walks away from the crowd slowly and with her head held high.

“There goes your pretty face,” Peter taunts her. “Oh wait, you don’t have one.”

She says nothing, betraying as little emotion as Four when she switches places with Al at the target. Al is very nearly in tears and he looks guilty that Tris is having to take his place, but relieved.

I look at the wicked sharp knives in Four’s hand, one in his right that he draws back and three in his left. I consider all of the times I’ve insisted that they can’t actually kill us and not for the first time I wonder if I might actually be wrong about that.

Four’s knife embeds just at the edge of the human shaped target, a fair distance from Tris’ left hand. Christina buries her head in Will’s chest when it hits and he wraps his arms around her. Though the most of us cringe at the sound, Tris doesn’t flinch; she does close her eyes though, waiting for the next.

“You done, Stiff?” Four taunts.

Tris’ jaw clenches. “No.”

“Eyes open then.”

Her hands clench into fists at her sides as she steels herself for the next knife, which Four very casually tosses from his left hand into his right. It’s little more than a flash as it flies through the air and then sticks in the head of the target, which is far above Tris’ own.

“Come on, Four,” Eric says. “You can get a little closer than that.”

Four shrugs at him. “Come on, Stiff. Let someone else stand there and take it.”

“Shut up, Four!” she snaps and I have to suppress the urge to laugh at the face he makes when she says that.

He throws the third knife and it embeds into the wood far to the right of Tris’ head.

“Closer,” Eric goads.

Four glances back at him. “Want me to give her a little trim?”

“Yeah. Maybe just a little off the top.”

He throws the fourth knife, this one seeming to be aimed right at Tris’ head. I close my eyes for a second as the knife makes contact. But not with her; it wedges in the wood right above her ear. She inches away from the knife and touches her fingertips to the shell of her ear, grimacing. He cut her.

“Well,” Eric says grandly, “as much as I would love to stick around and see if you’re all as bold as she is, we’re done for the day. Get out.” He points at Tris. “Points for bravery, Stiff, but not as many as you just lost for opening your mouth.”

The others start to leave but Christina, Will, Al, and I go toward Tris; she sees us, but holds up her finger for us to give her a minute. I nod and walk out and back toward the dormitory with the others following me. Will and Christina have let go of each other, and none of us breathe a word the whole way back.

The dormitory is quiet when we walk in, Myra and Peter are gone but no one else is. Eric let us go early so we all have time to kill until dinner.

Tris is back another minute later and, save for Drew and Molly, the dorm bursts into applause. My friends and I meet her as soon as she walks through the door.

“You do have a death wish!” Christina exclaims, wrapping her arm around Tris’ shoulder.

Will claps her on the back. “I cannot believe you said that you Eric.”

“Or that you told Four to shut up,” I say. “I think that makes you worse than me at this point.”

“That was amazing,” Al gushes.

“No one’s ever stood up to him like that,” Edward adds, hanging around near us.

“Hey, Tris.” Molly approaches us and I feel immediately defensive. “That was pretty cool.”

“Yeah, impressive stuff.” Peter slithered back into the dormitory at some point, except now he’s holding a tablet.

“Shut up,” Will snaps.

“What? No, I mean it.” Peter’s eyes are wide with fake innocence. I don’t consider myself a violent person but I really, really want to punch him. “You’re famous now.” He pauses as we give him blank stares. “Not because of the thing with Eric, no that was…whatever. You’re in the news, the article just dropped this morning.” He brings the tablet closer to his face. “Recent transfers of Beatrice and Caleb Prior children of Andrew Prior call into question the soundness of Abnegations teachings and values. What prompted them to leave?”

We start walking away, trying to skirt around him but he follows.

“Perhaps the answer lies in the corrupted ideals of an entire faction,” he continues to read. “The theft of resources, the general incompetence, the abuse of their children.” He looks up and at Tris with mock sympathy. “Did your parents beat you, Tris, like Marcus Eaton’s kid?”

“They didn’t beat anyone,” Tris snaps. “The Abnegation are good people.”

“And that’s why you chose to leave?”

Tris makes a frustrated noise and walks away, the others going with her but I hang back.

“Was it something I said?” Peter says.

“Peter,” I sigh, tipping the tablet up in his hand and pressing it into his chest. “You and I both know that those claims are nothing more nothing more than tabloid drivel and have nothing to do with anything. Honestly, I’m surprised that you can read at all but gossip magazines, _really_?  That’s the best ammunition you can find?”

“That a challenge, Ice Queen?” he hisses, stepping closer to me.

“It’s a critique. I could go on, but frankly I have better things to do with my time.” I walk away before he can manage a retort or even a threat.

I’ve met the woman who I suspect writes all the articles about Abnegation, she writes under a pseudonym to protect her reputation but it’s fairly obvious to most. Lucy Sharp, the head of the journalism department in Erudite, can hardly be called a journalist at all. Sure, there was a time when she was one of the greats and that’s what secured her the position that she currently holds; but as of recent years she seems to have found that it’s far more fun to drag people’s names through the mud than actually write about anything of note, she has the rest of the department for that. In person, she’s a gossip, a snob, and a very good friend of my parents. I know her because we socialized with her at all the dinner parties and other classy events I was all but obligated to attend.

“Don’t listen to him,” Christina says to Tris right as I catch up with them. “He’s an idiot.”

“Yep,” Tris says. “I know. It’s okay.”

We turn a corner and Will pauses muttering, “What’s she doing at Dauntless?”

Walking down the hallway right toward us is Jeanine, my mother and Gwendolyn on either side of her, and a small crowd of Erudite trailing behind them. Max walks a few feet away with his hands clasped behind his back, nodding every so often as Jeanine talks.

We move to the edge of the hallways, waiting for them to pass. I catch Gwendolyn’s eye and she nods at me in acknowledgement; I wave back in response, smiling.

Jeanine and my mother stop in front of us, my mother waving off the crowd and most of them leave quickly as Gwendolyn begins speaking and some of them nearly having to jog to keep up with her pace.

“Mimette,” Jeanine says, smiling.

“Let Dr. Morgan lead, she can explain it just as well. We’ll be there in five, don’t wait,” my mother mutters to one of the people at the tail end of the crowd and I recognize him as Ryan Chantanelle, my mother’s secretary.

He nods, brushing a swoop of brown and gray hair away from his eyes. “You got it, Boss.” He glances at me, smiling and giving a mock two-finger salute with the same exaggerated swagger he does everything with. “Mini.”

“Ryan.” I smile at him, my voice dripping with amusement, and return the gesture.

He smiles back and then walks away to join the rest of the crowd. Most people find him kind of insufferable, but I’ve spent enough time around him to know he’s not so bad. He and the rest of the people he works with on Support Crew, the team of people who keep basically everything in order in Erudite. He’s known me since I was a kid and insists on calling me Mini though which is…a lot. I don’t love it but he’s given a nickname to all of my siblings and I could have done much worse. He’s been calling Minerva ‘Scrappy’ since she was twelve.

My mother hugs me and says in my ear, “It’s good to see you, my dear girl.”

“Hi, Mom. I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon either. I’m really happy you’re both here though.”

I don’t bother to hide my affection for them both, like with Mark, my mother is a faction leader and no one is going to correct her.

“Happy belated birthday, Jeanine.”

She smiles. “Thank you very much. How have you been?”

I shrug. “Well I mean we haven’t got our rankings yet but I’m pretty good at training, I mean I’m not like the best but-”

“No,” Jeanine corrects me. “I didn’t ask about your ranking, I asked how you’ve _been_. Are you eating properly? Have you taken up any hobbies? Do you like it here?” She glances at the others. “I see your making plenty of new friends.”

The four of them have sort of stepped back to give me some space and they seem surprised Jeanine acknowledged them at all.

“Uh, yeah.” I look back at all my new friends. “Um this is Will, Christina, Al, and Tris. Everyone, my mother and Jeanine, who’s kind of a family friend.”

“How lovely to meet you all,” my mother says.

“Prior,” Jeanine says, pointing at Tris. “Aren’t you Andrew Prior’s daughter, Beatrice?”

“Uh, yeah.” She rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. “But I sort of changed it to just Tris.”

“You made an impressive choice, both of you actually. Given your respective families and your test results.”

“Y-you’ve seen our test results.” Tris stares at her with wide eyes.

“Of course.” Jeanine glances back at my mother. “Well, we should probably get going. If you ever need anything, Mimi, let me know.”

“I will. It was really good to see you again.” I hug her. We’re almost the same height now that I don’t wear heels anymore.

“I’ll see you on Visiting Day, Mim.” My mother kisses the top of my head and then they both walk away, talking quietly to each other.

“That was…weird,” Will mutters.

“Really weird,” Christina agrees and then turns to Tris and I. “What was that?”

I shrug. “Like I said, Jeanine’s a really close friend of my parents. She’s kind of just…always been around for me. Tris, I don’t know what the hell you did to get her attention?”

Well, I can think of one thing but other than that I don’t think she’s ever actually met Jeanine or my mother before.

She shrugs too. “I mean my father’s on the council. That might have had something to do with it.”

“Yeah,” Will says, “but they hate each other; what’s she got to gain from paying attention to you?”

Tris furrows her brow. “Good question.”

As we’re walking, I look back in the direction of the doors they went through. They never did mention a reason for coming.

“You guys look alike.” Al says to me, snapping me from my thoughts. “You and Jeanine.”

“Yeah actually,” Will agrees. “Like, now that you mention it I can definitely see it.”

I shrug. I don’t really, we have the same hair color but the similarities stop there. But I guess at a glance maybe.

I wonder if I should have told them that I changed my name. I think that it would have made Jeanine happy; she gave me that name and now it’s the one that I’ll be using for the rest of my life. It’s not just that I haven’t forgotten my Erudite roots completely, it’s that I haven’t forgotten my Erudite roots at all and I don’t think that I ever will.

“So what do you think they were here for?” Tris says.

“Erudite makes all the tech in the city, right?” Will says. “It was probably just that.”

“Yeah, but why would that need to involve the faction’s leader, representative, and head of the chemistry department?” I say.

“Yeah, fair enough.”

We walk away from that hallway towards the Pit; we still have a lot of time to kill before dinner.

As we pass by the tattoo parlor while taking a lap around the second floor of the Pit, I pause and then duck inside. My friends follow close behind, curious.

I glance back at them. “You guys can go on ahead if you’d like. There’s…something I’ve kind of been looking at.”

Christina shrugs and then so does Will. “It’s cool,” she says.

Tris and Al go on ahead though and then the two of them are drifting behind me as I open one of the catalogues to a page I made a note to myself to come back to at some point. In the top right corner of the page is a simple diamond outline. I glance up at the artist who has been sort of watching me since I came in, an older woman with black hair pulled into a bun.

“Find something you like?” she says.

“Yeah, actually.” I flip the book around to show her. “Can I get four of these sort of…arranged in a bigger diamond o-on my inner right wrist?”

She hums. “Interesting. Yeah, come with me.” She beckons for me to follow her, then stops and looks back at Will and Christina. “And I suppose your friends can come if they want.”

The three of us follow her to one of the many rooms and I take a seat in the chair, my hands are already starting to tremble. I glimpsed Al and Tris do this only a couple of weeks ago but it’s different doing it myself, different doing it after I said that I wouldn’t.

“So this is sudden,” Will says after a minute while the woman puts on a pair of rubber gloves and wipes down my skin with antiseptic. “I thought you and I were supposed to be the sensible ones?” Christina laughs at that.

Explaining the truth of the matter would be too sentimental, bordering on traitorous given how we’re supposed to devote ourselves to our new lives. But the truth is that I miss Erudite – I miss my home, I miss my friends, I miss my family. Seeing Jeanine and my mother earlier only rubbed that in.

I was never one of those kids that didn’t get along with their parents; I didn’t pick fights, I didn’t really have a reason to rebel, there was so little that they asked of me that there was never any reason to do either of those things. I love and am very, very close to both of my parents, and the other two people that raised me like parents – whom I do think of as my secondary mom and dad. Jeanine and Damascus were and still are important to me, integral to who I am. My siblings and I are – if nothing else – a byproduct of their love for us and we are built on the foundations they laid.

I ought to recognize that.

“Mimi?” Will puts his hand on the arm that isn’t currently held out to Tori. He chuckles. “Are you really that nervous?”

“Hm?” I look over at him rather than the intimidating tattoo gun about to go to work on my wrist.

“You totally zoned out for a second, didn’t even answer my question.”

For a split second there’s a sharp pain and then a buzzing and I gasp, my whole body tensing. Will and Christina look alarmed; but I relax again, quickly getting used to the pain and so do they.

“Can’t a girl be spontaneous once in a while?” I smile at him and he starts laughing.

“Sure, sure, why not?”  
Christina nudges him. “That _is_ what being Dauntless is all about, Brainiac.”

He nudges her back. “I know that. But still, it’s _Mimi_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say indignantly.

Both of them laugh and Will doesn’t bother to explain himself. I know exactly what he meant honestly, and it’s hard to take it as a joke when it’s so painfully accurate. I’m not Dauntless enough, not really, I don’t look the part and I’m not exactly itching to get there. I like the way that I look, would be fine in any other faction but not here when the Look is a whole part of the culture. Erudite’s like that too, in a way. The easiest thing for a person to change is their appearance, it should be the first of many signs of commitment.

Here’s hoping people will take this as mine.

 

The next day when I wake up I’m a little less tired, though still wholly not looking forward to training or doing much of anything really and my wrist is killing me. I let out a big yawn and stretch, accidentally slamming my fist into the bunk above me.

“Ah!” Will exclaims and I hear him start above me.

“Sorry,” I murmur, rubbing my stinging knuckles.

“You scared the hell out of me.” I can just imagine the way that he presses his hand to his heart as though trying to calm it.

I murmur incoherently in the response. I start to get up but he jumps off his bunk and lands just inches from me, startling me into sitting back down.

“Will!” I hiss.

“Oh, that is so karma.” He snickers and rubs at his tired eyes. “Also, I do that basically every morning, you’d think you’d be used to it by know.”

“Yeah. You’d think.” I kneel down to rifle through my basket of laundry for something, _anything_ , that doesn’t stink to high heaven. Will drops down next to me, doing something similar. He leans forward and rests his forehead against my bed like he intends to go back to sleep like that. I pat him on the back and he makes a noise in protest.

“Fine.” I get to my feet. “Stay there.”

I trudge into the bathroom with sections of my hair still hanging in my face and still a little bleary eyed. All of the showers are already occupied and there’s a small crowd in front of the mirror talking. I wedge myself in next to the wall and that’s when I spot Myra out of the corner of my eye.

“Myra!” I exclaim, suddenly awake. “Your hair!”

She twirls a lock of it around her finger. “Neat, right? I did it myself last night; I was up till like midnight with the bleach and everything but it was so worth it.”

“Oh my god, I love it. And you said you did this yourself?”

She nods. “I did my last color by myself too. It’s just easier than, like, being stuck in a salon chair for two and a half hours.”

“Well it looks great.” I start running my hairbrush through my own hair, slowly picking through the tangles.

“I could do yours too, if you want.”

“No. I don’t really think that I’m a hair dye sort of person.” I hold up my wrist. “Besides, I think this is enough of a change for me, for now at least.”

She gasps, apparently delighted to the change. “That’s so cool!” She gingerly takes my hand and extends my arm, the fingers on her free hand hovering just over the clear bandage. “What’s it meant to be?”

I shrug. “Nothing really, it just looked cool.”

She takes the statement at face value and lets me go. “So you’ll ink a random symbol into your skin _forever_ , but you won’t dye your hair for, like, a couple months?”

I shrug.

“Come on, you’ll never know unless you try.” She nudges me with her elbow. “I think you’d look really good with, like, blue hair. Like really bright blue hair.”

I roll my eyes. “I really don’t think that dyeing my hair my old faction’s color is exactly ‘letting go’.” I haven’t really let go yet of course, but I have to maintain some sense of subtlty.

She grins. “Does that mean you’d be open to doing a different color?”

“I’m going to go with no on that one.”

“Well I don’t exactly think that staying prim, perfect, and proper is exactly letting go either. Come on, practically everyone’s got something new.”

I shake my head and then start on braiding back my hair. “I just want it to mean something, you know? I don’t want to make some drastic change on a whim. It’s got to be for a reason.”

“And your reason for getting the tattoo was?”

Shit. Really backed myself into a corner with that one, didn’t I?

“Um…” I sigh. “Yeah, there’s a reason but…I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s a little personal.”

She raises her eyebrows, clearly only more intrigued but drops it. “Well, at any rate, I think you’ve chosen the wrong faction if everything you do is for a reason. Doing drastic things on a whim are practically all Dauntless does; zipline, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“Did that mean something? Did that have some deeper reason or did we just do it because we could, because we’re Dauntless and that’s what we do?” She grins at me and after a second I return it.

“Okay fine, you’ve got me there.” Her grin widens and I shake my head slightly. “I’m still not dying my hair though.”

The others make their way in alone or in small clusters as others trickle out. We’ve reached a point in our training where most of us can’t manage more than the bare minimum of effort. If my father’s right and to look good is to feel good, I could probably stand to put a little more effort into at least my hair if for no one else’s sake than my own.

Some of the others comment on Myra’s hair and she seems to glow with pride when they do, occasionally twisting a lock around her finger and beaming. At breakfast, which I wait up for the rest of my group to walk to and to my surprise she waits with me, Myra waves me over to the table that she and Edward occupy alone. I glance back at my other friends and Christina shooes me away with a flap of her hand. Will tilts his head to the side like a curious bird but doesn’t say anything. I follow Myra to her table and sit with a seat in between the two of us. Over here, we’re much closer to Peter’s table. He and his group talk and joke like they don’t find joy in being jerks to other people. I guess no one can be evil a hundred percent of the time.

Edward gives me a quizzical look as I sit down. “Finally get tired of Will?”  
I scoff. “No. What’s your problem with him anyways?”  
He opens his mouth but Myra gives him a warning look and he frowns, obviously selecting his words very carefully. Finally, he shrugs. “Why don’t you ask him?”

A couple more of the Erudite transfers sit down at our table. I recognize them by the way that they sit, their appearances, it’s all more familiar to me. I guess some people did take Edward up on his idea that the Erudite ought to stick together. I recognize some of them from school, some of them from events that I went to but not many and they don’t seem to know me either (thank god).

One of the girls, Viola, shows off a new tattoo she’d gotten just yesterday. It’s a bouquet of wilted roses with the clear bandage still wrapped around it, she seems very pleased with it and herself. Her closer friends admire it and brush their fingers over her arm, pulling back when she flinches. In turn I show off mine, drawing similar reactions from them. I’m a little surprised at how easily I fold into them, with all of our similarities, it’s not like my other friends but they’re a warm group of people who welcome me.

“I’m learning to love it,” says one of the boys when the topic turns to our new lives here in Dauntless. “I think…I’ll always miss Erudite but I know that this is where I belong.”

“What about you, Mimi,” Myra turns to me, “do you think very much about home?”

I shrug, swallowing the answer that I think about it all the time. Even though we’re all Erudite transfers, I’m still different from them. “I try not to. I did leave for a reason.”

_Don’t ask me what it was,_ I mentally tack on.

“I would certainly hope so.” Edward chuckles. “Just because we’re Dauntless now doesn’t mean we have to abandon reason completely.”

One girl snorts. “Tell that to our instructors; I’ve never met two more unreasonable people.” That gets a laugh out of most of the table.

“I had first hour math with Elizabeth Reynolds,” says one boy, “so I’m going to have to disagree with you there.” My blood runs cold, I know that Eliza’s kind of an…acquired taste, but I’ve never heard anyone talk about her the way that she, Casey, and I used to talk about Dahlia.

“That’s fair,” another chimes in.

I clench my jaw to keep myself from saying something stupid. I know exactly why people didn’t – still don’t – like Eliza; it’s not really something I can argue against, but she was always good to me.

“Why the face, Mimi.” Myra nudges me.

I don’t respond. Instead I grip my fork so hard that the metal bites sharply into my hand.

“Mimi.” She nudges me again, her voice lilting in a way that reminds me painfully of Casey.

“Nothing,” I lie, my voice a little too sharp and she seems taken aback.

“Uh-huh,” she replies, mercifully losing that tone.

The topic changes and I can relax again, though the memories of my old friends linger. I wish that I’d seen Casey with Mark at the fence, I hope he told her what I asked him to, I hope she knows that I still care about her.

“Can’t believe there’s only like a month left in initiation,” Edward says.

“We can’t be done soon enough if you ask me,” says a boy with very gelled hair. “I’m sick of getting punched in the face every day.”

“That’s Dauntless for you,” says another boy, snickering.

The first rolls his eyes. “It’s something.”

“Who do you guys think is going to get cut?” I say.

“Out of us?” Myra replies. “Could be anyone really, except for, like, Edward.”

“And Peter,” adds one of the guys with a grimace. “Unfortunately.”

“Here’s hoping that it’s one or both of his cronies,” says the person next to him. “Molly snores so much.”

“Rumi, you snore,” the boy replies.

Rumi gives an indignant scoff and folds their arms. “Well she also hogs the shower and I have a right to complain about that too.”

“I can’t really imagine any of us not being here,” says one of the girls, her hair wrapped up in a black headscarf.

“That’s because we’re all amazing,” Rumi replies, showing off their incredibly white teeth.

“No but, like, I guess I’ve just gotten used to having you all with me. I can’t imagine my life without you.” Her statement is met with sarcastic coos and joking accusations of sentimentality.

They remind me of my old friends, my old classmates. I probably had some of them in my class at least once, but it makes me smile. It’s familiar in a way that doesn’t make we want to scream, in a way that gives me a warm feeling in my chest.

“I mean that’s kind of everyone, right?” Myra says. “Like, I couldn’t imagine not seeing Mimi and her friends either and I barely know them.”

“I don’t know about that,” the girl in the headscarf says as she rests her chin on her palm. “I think that there’s plenty of people here that I could go the rest of my life without having to deal with that ever again.”

The person next to rolls their eyes. “Quin, I can guarantee that half the reason you think that is because we live together.”

Quin raises her eyebrow. “Yeah, so what if it is? Some of these people are shitty roommates, sue me.”

Chuckles ripple through the table. She’s right though, I’ve never had to share a room before initiation and I’ve thoroughly decided that I hate it. As nice as it is to have my friends just a few feet away, it’s loud, and it smells, and I just in general hate having to deal with other people’s annoying habits as they probably hate to deal with mine.

 

Semi-reluctantly, we get up at the end of breakfast and head to training. Without anyone else noticing, I hang back from the group and eventually fall in with the rest of my friends.

“So how was breakfast with the brainiacs?” Christina asks.

Will and I share a fondly exasperated look. I shrug and don’t get into how I’ve always been the odd one out among the Erudite, how I didn’t expect anything to be different now that we’re Dauntless-Erudite but in a way it is and it fills me with a kind of happiness I can’t describe.

The knives are set up in the training room again, so are the shooting targets. Four lets us take our pick of what we do and I wander more than I don’t. Not as much as some others though, who seem like all they do is pace around and try to look busy when Four’s around.

Tris and I spar pathetically, joking around with each other more than we don’t and over-exaggerating the pain from the other’s blows.

“Oh, you have done me in!” I cry as Tris tries to kick me and just grazes my leg. I fall to the ground in an overdramatic fashion, laughing all the way down.

“Get up, Ice Queen,” Four snaps as he paces past our mat. He rolls his eyes at me and all I do is laugh harder.

“Careful, Mimi,” Myra calls from the punching bags. “Else he’ll wind up chucking knives at your head.”

I don’t laugh and neither does Tris, it’s not that funny to her; she had to go through it.

Myra notices our silence. “Did that…cut too deep.”

We both groan at the pun and Will laughs so hard he trips has he’s running past, prompting most of us to burst out laughing whether we heard Myra’s joke or not.

“Hey!” Four yells over our laughing. “Back to work, all of you.”

I bite back a sarcastic comment and Tris and I continue with our sparing.

“You’re getting stronger,” I comment as I duck a punch.

Tris beams at the praise. “Thank you.”

“I’d say you could probably give Peter a run for his money if you fought him now.”

“Alright,” she chuckles, “you don’t have to stretch the truth that much.” She lands a hit that knocks me off balance.

“It’s not a lie.” I retaliate with a kick to her legs. “I’m not the sort of person who flatters without a reason.”

She snorts. “I’ve noticed.”

I laugh at the figurative jab as I make a literal one.

“Quit pulling your punches you two,” Four chides as he passes by us. “I’ve seen you both do better than that.”

“Careful, Four,” I drawl, ducking another punch, “that almost sounded like a compliment. Next thing you know you might be feeling the urge to actually be nice.”

He lets out a sigh through his nose. “Ice Queen, that’ll be five laps.”

I shrug. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

As I start running, Christina slows down to let me catch up with her.

“Antagonizing him already?” she laughs.

I shrug. “Perhaps.”

She hums. “Might just be the one thing that actually makes training entertaining.”  
“Well, I am here to entertain.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you and Will. I swear, the two of you are like the same person and I haven’t decided if I love it or hate it.”

I laugh. “Not really, I mean…” As I try to find reasons, I realize that she’s right. Will and I are entirely too similar. “Whatever.”

She giggles. “Oh, you know I’m right.”

“Maybe so.” I like Will well enough that being like him is actually a thought that I like. We have similar personalities I suppose, the same kind of humor and shared origins. As much as I pretend to tolerate him at best, he’s someone that I can’t help but like.

And speaking of, he falls back to keep in step with us.

“Don’t you get bored of getting punished with laps?” he says, glancing over at Four. “You’d think by now he’d have gotten a little more creative.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t give him any ideas. The last thing I need is him getting creative.”

“You could just not antagonize him,” Will suggests.

I laugh. “But where’s the fun in that.” The other two laugh with me and Will tips his head to the side like he’s considering it.

“Yeah,” he concedes, “that’s fair I guess. It’s certainly fun to watch.”

“That’s what I said,” Christina agrees.

“Well, great minds do think alike.” He grins.

“Oh of course,” she agrees, snickering.

They’re similar too, I think. In different ways though, ways that I for some reason find incredibly endearing. We spend the remainder of our training day just like that, joking. And, despite everything, all of us are able to laugh at least once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very fun to write. I always like scenes where Jeanine plays a major role.


End file.
